Betrayal
by Danae3
Summary: A woman collapses in Ollivander's store, grasping a scrap of paper with Snape's name on it and crying out, Betrayal! But who has betrayed who?
1. Prelude

Diagon Alley.  Buildings leaned against each other, reaching up to blot out the gray colored sky.  Crowds swirl in a mist of buying and selling, noses pushed against windows to better see wares.  Crones huddle.  Prices are haggled.  Children are pulled by their arms by impatient mothers or nannies.   Smiles.  Camaraderie of the magical.

            A shadow in a cloak slides down the street, fearful each time her thin, feminine hands are raised to push through.  Silver eyes flicker, carefully watching those around, regularly cast over a shoulder to watch the masses swirl behind.  They land on a face lost in the sea of faces.  Footsteps quicken, breath is shallow and quick.  Furtive glances lower to the cobble street.

            The face again, thin and severe, reflected in a puddle.  A gasp.  Held breath.  Pace quickens again.  Don't run.  Don't draw attention.

            That face!  That face all around.  Beneath each cloak is the same scowl, the same pools of ink staring back.  That face!

            The street is spinning.

            Weak, afraid, she pushes through a large door.  An old man smiles, then frowns.  Bespeckled blue eyes widen.

            "I must find him!"  Her voice is a hushed cry.  A crumpled paper thrust forward.

            The room is moving, melting.

            "Betrayal!  Betrayal!"  Her hands grab at the counter, but falter.  She steps back, arms grasping for solidity.  Finding none, she falls to the ground.  Black hair splaying.

            Darkness.  


	2. Chapter 1

All these characters belong to JKR, with the exception of the unnamed girl.

*  *  *

Mr. Ollivander glanced up from his stack of wands to see Albus Dumbledore step from his fireplace and shake soot from his voluminous robes.

            "Albus, you got my message," he said, clasping the man's hands in his own.

            "Yes, Elijah.  I apologize that I had not come sooner.  I had a meeting to attend to."   Dumledore vibrant blue eyes smiled.  Ollivander knew he had been organizing wizards and witches against Voldemort.  "You said you had something important for me to see?"

            "Rather, a someone," he said, cleaning his spectacles on his robe.

            "Oh?  Who is it?"

            "A young woman who stumbled in here earlier today.  She seemed rather distraught.  It seems she was trying to find this person."  He took a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to his old friend.

            Albus smoothed the paper, and there, in hurried but clear lettering, was the name of his Potions Master: Severus Snape.

            "She was looking for Professor Snape?  Did she say who she is?"

            He shook his head.  "No, no she did not.  I'm afraid she collapsed soon after and seems to recall… nothing.   I have her in the room in back."  He led the Hogwart's Headmaster through to the back of his store where he kept a spare bedroom for long nights making wands, but stopped short just outside the door.  "Albus, when she gave me that sheet of paper, she did say one other word."

            "What word?"

            "Betrayal."  Ollivander whispered it, knowing that single word was very powerful when used in connection with Snape's.  It could have many meanings.  Deadly meanings.  

            "Never a good word when used for anybody," Dumbledore said, seeming to read Ollivander's thought.

            Ollivander nodded in agreement, then pushed the door open.  The woman, no more than twenty-five, sat on the bed, her back against the wall, with her knees drawn up to her chest.  She raised her head when the two men entered the room.  Two bright silver eyes stared out at them from behind the long black hair, which flowed over her otherwise pale face.

            "Do you know who I am?" Dumbledore asked politely.  She shook her head.  "Can you tell me who you are?"  Again, she shook her head.  "Do you _know_ who you are?"  His voice became gentle as he sat on the bed near her and slowly pulled her hair from her face.  She shook her head again, her eyes never leaving his.  Dumbledore simply looked back at her.  She seemed familiar.  He knew he had seen her before, but could not place her.  _Odd, very odd_, he thought.  "My name is Albus Dumbledore.  This is Elijah Ollivander.  Do you remember Mr. Ollivander?"

            "Yes."  Her voice was soft, musical.  "He helped me."

            Dumbledore nodded.  "Yes, he did.  You said you were looking for someone."  He showed her the piece of paper from Ollivander.  "Do you know who Severus Snape is?"

            "No, I do not."

            "Why are you looking for him?"

            "I do not know."  Large tears were brimming on her eyes

            Dumbledore exchanged a look of desperation with Ollivander.  "When you came in here, you said 'Betrayal.'  Do you know what you meant?"

            "I do not, sir."  The bell in the store rang, signaling a customer.  The girl jumped and gripped the blankets of the bed tightly, as Ollivander hurried out of the room.

            "You're all right.  No one here will hurt you.  We're trying to help.  Now, do you remember anything at all?  How you got here?  Where you were before?  Who your parents are?"

            "I was afraid."

            "Of what?"

            "I don't know, but I was very afraid.  That's all I remember."

            Dumbledore sat back in quiet contemplation.  If he alerted the Ministry, she would be sent to St Mungo's.  But what did this girl know?  What is the betrayal, and how does it relate to Severus?  Dumbledore knew he would have to take her back to Hogwarts.  It's the only place she would be safe, and where he could watch her constantly.

            "Child," he said quietly.  "I am the headmaster at a school.  If you like, you can come back there with me.  I will give you a place to stay and we can, perhaps, attempt to return your memory.  Would you like to come back there with me?"

            She hesitated a moment, deciding whether or not she trusted this old bearded man beside her.  Finally, she nodded consent.

            Dumbledore trusted the girl into the hands of Madame Pomfrey to be checked for injuries, then called Minerva McGonagall to his office to explain the situation.

            "Do you think it is prudent, having the girl here?" Minerva asked when he told her the story.  "We don't know anything about her.  She may be dangerous."

            "Right now, she is simply scared.  She doesn't know anything about herself.  We must help her, if not for herself, then for Severus.  Has he returned yet?"

            "No, he has not."

            Dumbledore sat back in his chair, deeply worried.  Snape had been summoned to Voldemort the evening before, as he often had been during the summer.  But it was rare for him to not return by morning.  

            "She spoke of betrayal.  We need to know whether she knows of his betrayal of Voldemort, or if it is he who has been betrayed."

            "Albus, has it occurred to you that Snape could betray you?" the deputy headmistress asked gently.

            "It has.  But by Merlin's will, I hope it not be so."

            McGonagall quietly agreed, then asked, "So what do we do with her now that she is here.  We can't have her wandering about the school while the students are here."

            "I agree, we cannot.  We will give her a room on the third floor, with explicit instructions not to leave that floor.  The students must be warned not to wander there."

            "I believe we gave those instructions once before.  They were unheeded."  

            Dumbledore agreed.  It was only four years ago that Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, and Miss Granger found their ways there, even upon warning of death from the Headmaster, to find the Sorcerer's Stone.

            "We will have to keep the curious in Gryffindor under control this year."  Minerva winced.  She was the head of the Gryffindor House, and they were her responsibility, a rather draining job between Harry and his friends and Fred and George Weasley, a pair of identical twins who loved to cause trouble whenever they could.  "If they must serve detentions every evening for the entire year, they will, but they will not disobey.  They must stay out of that corridor.  If Harry is found anywhere near that corridor, I will deal with him myself.  Make sure he is aware of this."

            "I'll see to it, Headmaster."

            Dumbledore glanced up at Minerva's use of his formal title in private.  "It is for his own good, Minerva.  As you said, we don't know anything about this girl."  He sighed.  "I still have many friends at the Ministry.  I will see if any of them can give me any information about her.  Perhaps we can learn, at least, what her name is."


	3. Chapter 2

All these characters belong to JKR, with the exception of Medea.

*  *  *

            Dumbledore escorted the young woman to a room on the third floor.  He smiled to see how well house-elves had prepared the room.  The walls and floor had been scrubbed clean, and fresh sheets were stretched over a large bed with new black curtains.  Several fresh black robes were laid out for the new houseguest.  A fire already roared in the fireplace.  A large barn owl was perched near the window, just as Dumbledore had requested.

            "If you need me for any reason, send this owl.  He will fly directly to me only.  There are quills and parchment in the desk over there.  All of your meals will be sent here to your room.  You may wander this floor as you like, but you may not leave it.  You may not go into the main part of the school unless I am with you.  Is that understood?"

            "Yes, Mr. Dumbledore."  She looked sadly around her room.

            "I'm sorry if this seems like a prison for you, child.  You must remember it is for safety, both for you and for the students entrusted to my care.  You understand why I also cannot give you a wand?"

            "I understand, sir.  But I am not saddened by gaining a prison, but for losing a past. 

            Dumbledore smiled.  She was eloquent for someone so young.  Surely, she was well-educated.  Perhaps this would help to discover her identity.

            He visited her during the evenings, often bringing books to try and jog her memory.  He was surprised at her knowledge of history.  He took her for walks on the school grounds after the students had long gone to bed and listened as she told of the terrifying dreams which often kept her awake most of the night.

            "Always, there is the same man in a black cloak.  His hands and face are skeletal, as if he is merely bones with skin stretched tightly across.  I lie on a cold floor, and the room is dark and damp, like a dungeon.  He enters and casts spells on me, torturing me.  And he laughs all the time I am screaming.  He enjoys that I am in pain."

            Dumbledore tries to comfort her, telling her it is only a nightmare, but he wonders if this is from her past.  Was it Voldemort?  Had she been tortured by him before appearing in Diagon Alley?  He found himself wishing Snape would return, but it had already been several days without word.  The old Headmaster worried dreadfully for his Potions Master.

            After nearly a week, a discovery was made about the girl.  They were making one of their midnight strolls when Dumbledore was startled by a deep voice.

            "Dumbly-dorr, 'ow are you?"

            "Ah, very well, indeed, Madame Maxime," replied Dumbledore, gently kissing the glittering hand of the Beauxbatons Headmistress.  "Are you here to visit with Hagrid?"

            "I am," she replied, blushing, "on ze matter of business.  'Oo is zis beautiful child, Dumbly-dorr?  She is young for a teacher, no?"

            "No, she is not a teacher here," Dumbledore answered.  "I am helping her with a problem."

            "Ah, zis one is good for 'elping wiz ze problems," she replied, bending down to see the girl better.  "What is ze problem?"

            "She has amnesia, Olympe.  She cannot remember her past," Dumbledore told her simply.

            "Oh, quelle domage!  Such beautiful eyes wiz nuzzing on ze o-zair side!"

            "Madam, J'ai perdu mes mémoires mais non mon esprit.  Je vous assure que, il y a d'abondance derrière mes yeux."

            "I can see zat," Madame Maxime said with surprise.  "Vous parlez ma langue très bien, enfante."

            "Merci, madame.  Je n'ai voulu dire aucune offense."

            "Zink nuzzing of it.  It is I 'oo offended you," the giantess said with a smile.  "'Ell, Dumbly-dorr, I should find 'Agrid.  Enjoy your walk."

            "I did not know you spoke French," Dumbledore said after Maxime disappeared in the direction of Hagrid's cabin.

            "Nor did I, until I spoke."

            "Sprechen Sie Deutsches außerdem?"

            She thought a moment before replying.  "Ja aber die Wörter kommen Sie langsam."

            "So you are not as fluent?"

            "No, sir."

            "Well, it is a useful clue, nonetheless."  They walked slowly around the castle.

            "Mr. Dumbledore, this man, Severus, who I was looking for, is he not here?"

            "No, unfortunately, he is not.  I had rather hoped he would have returned by now."

            "You're worried for him.  I notice you watch the forest when we walk."

            "Yes, that is where he usually returns.  You are very perceptive."

            She bit her lip as she thought.  "Do you think he will know who I am?"

            "It is a possibility.  After all, why would you come looking for him, if you had never met?"

            "I thought about that.  I hope he returns soon."

            "As do I, child.  As do I."

            The following morning, Dumbledore received a letter from Arthur Weasley requesting a meeting at six that evening at his office fireplace.  Promptly at six p.m., Arthur's balding head appeared in a green flame.

            "Professor," he said cheerily, "how are you?"

            "In excellent health, Arthur.  How is Molly?"

            "Good.  She's good.  I- uh- have some information for you about the girl you have."  He passed a file to the Headmaster.  "She matches the description of one Medea Colberson.  Her picture is in the front there.  Seems she was born in London, then her parents moved to Marseille.  She was educated at Beauxbatons."

            "Beauxbatons?" he asked, looking up from her picture.  "Madame Maxime met her last night.  She didn't seem to recognize her."

            "Well, it seems she went there in the seventies.  Graduated in nineteen seventy-six.  She should be quite a bit older than she looks."

            Dumbledore flipped from the smiling photograph back to her records.  She had disappeared in 1984.  Both parents were deceased.  One brother, current whereabouts unknown.  

            "That picture was current when she disappeared," Arthur continued.  "She was twenty-six years old."  

"This could be her daughter rather than Medea Colberson."

"That's what I thought, so I contacted a friend at Beauxbatons to see if she ever left for an extended period.  He said no.  Medea Colberson never had a child while she was there.

"Now, she interned at a potions lab in Paris called The Essence of the Magi, and worked there until her disappearance.  They say the same thing, she never took any kind of leave of absence, until she failed to show for work on September 7, 1984.  Nobody's heard from her since.  That, unfortunately, is all I got about her.  Does any of it help?"

"Thank you Arthur.  The similarity in these pictures is too much to be mere coincidence.  After all, how many people have those eyes?  Perhaps, it will help her remember something, even if it is merely a family connection."

"Glad I could help, Professor.  By the way, I know they haven't been there very long, but, how are my kids?  They haven't caused any problems yet, have they?"

"No, Arthur.  They've been doing well.  I'll tell them you asked about them.  And give my warmest wishes to Molly."

"I'll do that.  Good night."

"Good night."  The head vanished from the flames.

Dumbledore sat at his desk with the file and carefully read through it.  Mostly, it gave all of the information he had gotten from Arthur, but also included some personal information.  Medea Colberson spoke several languages, was gifted in several areas of magic, but chose to pursue potions.  She was described by coworkers as friendly and cheerful, but guarded of her private life.

Besides the picture, nothing necessarily connected the girl.  It is not strange for witches to pick up several languages.  Yet, he found himself wondering how a woman, if this was indeed her, could stop aging for nearly twenty years.


	4. Chapter 3

Darkness.  Footsteps echoing in the distance.  Ears strain.  Do they come for me?  Fingernails grip at concrete.  Footsteps outside.  Don't let me fall.  They stop.

A long creak, light falls.  A black cloak advances.

Words I cannot hear, but I am afraid.  Do not show fear.

Those thin hands, a wand gripped.  A flash.

The pain!  Don't let him hear you scream!  Stop it!  Stop it!

He stops.  Tears over hot cheeks.  A pool on the floor.  Sit up!  Don't let him see you weak.

Low laughter.  More words, but-

No!  Stop it!  Stop!  I have done nothing!

Nothing?  What have I done?  Nothing!

_Betrayal._

Dumbledore knocked on the sturdy oak door and was greeted moments later by a harried smile.

"Mr. Dumbledore!  I must have fallen asleep."

"I'm sorry.  I didn't mean to wake you."

"No, I'm glad for it.  It was not a peaceful sleep." 

"You are still dreaming, I see."  He eyed his charge sadly.  These dreams were wearing on her  "I will speak to Madame Pomfrey about it.  Perhaps she can help."

"Thank you, sir."  She stepped elegantly across the room to her cloak.  "Are we going for a walk?"

"Not yet.  Not yet.  I want to show you something first.  Come, sit down."

She followed the movement of his hand toward the chairs set before the fireplace and sat.  Her eyes followed his hands as they slid into a file and emerged with the photograph he had received earlier that evening.  He handed it to her and watched as she carefully examined the face.

Gently, her fingers slid over the face, then touched her own.  She stood and crossed to the bureau to examine her face in a mirror.

"This is me." Her voice trembled with the revelation. 

"Medea Colberson?"

She turned, her eyes wide.  The fire reflected in the silver mirrors of her eyes.

"That name is familiar.  Is it mine?"

"It belongs to the girl in that picture, so it is possible.  Or it is the name of a relative.  You say it is familiar?"

"Medea," she whispered, turning back to the mirror.  "Medea Colberson.  My name." 

Dumbledore smiled faintly.  He didn't know if it really was her name, but at least now, he had something to call her.

When Dumbledore arrived at the Potions class the next morning, there was much whispering about the class.  He assumed they were gossiping about Snape's disappearance.  He had told them that he had left on a personal emergency, but no one had expected him to be missing for so long.  And he couldn't bring himself to hire a replacement, even a temporary one, so he taught the classes himself.

"Now class," he began, "today we will begin discovering the many magical properties of dragon's blood."  He paused as a hand shot up into the air.  "Yes, Miss Brown?"

"Professor, who's up on the third floor?"

"The third floor?"

"Yes, sir.  We've seen them by the windows when we're outside.  We thought maybe it was a ghost, but Nearly Headless Nick-"

"Sir Nicholas," he corrected.

"Uh, yeah.  Sir Nicholas said that there wasn't a ghost up there that he knew of.  He said it was a woman.  And we were wondering who it was."

"I see.  This is what you have been whispering about behind your books?"  Several students were nodding.  "The woman up on the third floor, is a young lady who has been placed in my charge."

"Why?"   It was Parvati Patil.

Dumbledore smiled.  "How many of you have heard of Countess Elizabeth Bathory?"

The students stared blankly back.

"Countess Elizabeth Bathory," he continued, trying to contain his smile, "was a young witch from the Balkans.  A noblewoman of unsurpassed beauty.  She was afraid of becoming old, so in order to keep her youth, she bathed daily in the blood of young women."

He heard several gasps from the room.

"Are you kidding?" Ron. Weasley asked.  "Is that her?"

Dumbledore smiled.  "I jest.  The young woman upstairs has been placed in my care to recover from an illness, that is all.  And I hope that none of you would disturb her while she rests."  He could see the class relax.  "If I find that any of you decide to quench your curiosity and go to find her, I shall be most unhappy with you.  Stay away from the third floor.  Please."  The old professor knew they would listen to him, but nonetheless, decided to add a few more spells to her protection.

Minerva McGonagall joined the midnight walk that evening.  She too was uneasy about Snape's long absence.   As they walked through the light fog, they were aware of the noses pressed against the windows of each tower they passed.  Students watching, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious woman.

"It continues to amaze me how secrets travel through this school so quickly," Dumbledore commented.

"Well, when you tell the students we are harboring a vampire in the attic, it is bound to catch their attention, Albus." 

"A vampire?"  Medea, who had been very quiet, looked up.  "They think I am a vampire?"

"It was a jest, ladies, and I told them so.  I am afraid our students very much enjoy mysteries.  You, to them, are just that.  A mystery to take their attention away from their work."

"Perhaps you should not feed their imagination quite so much, Albus.  It is bad enough when there is nothing to rouse their suspicions, but when-"  She stopped at Dumbledore's raised hand and followed his eyes to Medea.  She was frozen in midstep, her eyes wide, unfocused.

"Medea?" he said gently.

Darkness.  Cold.  Face pressed to concrete.  Sit up.  I can't.  He's coming!  Footsteps closer and closer.  Heart quickens.  Fists clench.  Sit up!  The long creak.  Light falls.  More words, low laughter.  A flash.

            God!  Oh God!  Please just kill me!

            No, don't say that.  Don't let him know you're weak.

            The pain!  The pain!  Please stop!

            _Just say the words.  Beg me for death!_

            No, don't say it!  

            Please, please-

            No, don't say the words.  Be strong.

            The cloak leans forward, hot breath.

            _I won't do it until you beg me to kill you, Severus._

Concrete falls away.  Floating.  Light.  Darkness.  A body on the ground, face turned away.  Muffled whimpers.  

            Be strong.  Thin fingers reach to touch his face.  Just be strong.  His head is in her lap, a severe pointed face.  Pools of ink look up at her.  So familiar.

            Medea?

            Shh.  Be strong.  Just be strong.

            "Medea?" Dumbledore lightly touched her hand, and she seemed to wake from her dream.  Her silver eyes fell on him, tears clinging to her eyelashes.  

            "Severus," she said weakly.  "I saw him."

            "Is this a memory?" Minerva asked.

            "I don't know, but I saw him.  He was in pain and I tried to comfort him."

            "You're sure it was him?" Dumbledore asked.

            "That's what the man in the cloak called him.  He was telling him to beg for death."  She paused in thought, biting her bottom lip.  "I don't think it was a memory.  It was- me.  I was lying on the floor.  I thought he was torturing me.  And then the cloak said his name and it was like I was floating.  I looked down and it was a man.  Severus.  His- his face.  I knew his face.  And he said my name.  He was in such pain."

            "Come," said Minerva, taking her elbow.  "Let's get you inside.  We can discuss this without the prying eyes."  She glanced up at the tower where more eyes peered out at them.


	5. Chapter 4

            Dumbledore and McGonagall escorted Medea to her chambers to rest.  She was still shaken from her experience during the walk.  While she sat near the fire sipping hot chocolate (which Dumbledore had ordered up from the kitchens), they stood outside her room, trying to decide how to proceed.

            "What do you think about this, Minerva?"

            "It's possible this is merely a memory, explaining how they know each other."

            "I agree.  However, she described herself as floating.  It could very well be a vision.  This is quite possibly the reason why Severus has not returned to the school."

            "If Voldemort knows of his betrayal-" Minerva gasped.

            "He will kill him," Dumbledore finished.  "And take amusement in it.  We must find out where he is and help him."

            "But if this is a trick meant to lure you out into danger?  This could all be a hoax."

            "God knows he has risked his life for me on numerous occasions.  I shall not back down when circumstances call for me to return the favor."  His blue eyes flashed at the thought. "We should alert members of the staff of the possibility.  When the time comes, I will take Professors Lupin and Flitwick.."

            "Albus, we don't even know where he is yet."

            "No.  Medea has promised to keep us informed of each dream.  And I believe there may be one other person here who will be helpful in this."

            Dumbledore sat behind his desk and watched Harry Potter sitting across from him.  He was growing taller every year, looking more like his father.  His hair hung over his forehead, hiding away all but the lowest point of the jagged scar scratched into his brow.  His vivid green eyes, Lily's eyes, slid slowly up to meet the professor's.

            "Have I done something wrong, Professor?"

            "No, Harry.  You have done nothing wrong, at least, that has been reported to me."  He smiled at the wry grin that touched Harry's lips.  "Quite the contrary, I was hoping you could help me with something.  It may be difficult for you, so I ask you to help willingly."

            He shot up in his seat, his chest proudly puffed out.  "Of course, Professor.  How can I help?"

            "It is very important that you recall everything you can about your- brush with Voldemort last spring.  I need to know about the location, where he is now."

            He sank back slightly.  "But Sn- Professor Snape would be more useful.  Wouldn't he know-"  Dumbledore held up his hand, silencing the young student.  He needed Harry's help, and he would have to tell him the situation.

            "Harry, has your scar been causing pain to you?"

Harry, his eyes cast down to the table, absently rubbed his fingers over the thin line.  "Yes.  Almost every night since school started.  Some times are worse than others.  I didn't want to bother you with it.  You've seemed so busy." 

"Harry, Professor Snape is with Voldemort, and he is in grave danger.  I believe his anger, his torture of the professor is what is causing your headaches.  As you can see, I need your help.  We need to know where he is being held."

            The boy sat in thought for a moment.  Dumbledore knew recalling this memory was a more difficult request than it seemed.  After all, Harry had almost been killed.  And Cedric Diggory-   In his mind, the old man could still see Harry lying on the ground, his eyes squeezed shut, holding onto Cedric's body with all his strength.

_Harry, you can't help him now.  It's over.  Let go._

_He wanted me to bring him back.  He wanted me to bring him back to his parents…_

_That's right, Harry.  Just let go now._

"Okay, Professor.  What do you need to know?" 

            After some time, Dumbledore released Harry back to the Gryffindor Tower, having promised not to say a word to anyone about their conversation.  He leaned back in his chair, feeling very tired.  Suddenly, he jumped up, a thought having crossed his mind.  September 7, 1984.  That was only a few days after Snape's trial.  He crossed his office to the black cabinet and unlatched the door.  A silvery glow emanated from the shallow stone basin.  Dumbledore picked up the pensieve and crossed to his desk where he swirled the silvery contents before laying it down.  He looked down and saw the dungeons he had been looking for.  Carefully, he touched his finger to the memory and felt himself drawn inside.

            He was sitting patiently next to himself, watching the door in the corner, waiting for the prisoner.  The door opened and three figures emerged.  He felt himself frown, and knew the Dumbledore beside him was doing the same.  Dementors.  Between them, looking haggard and worn, was a young Severus Snape.

            Severus was led to the chair in the front of the room, and sat quietly as the chains snaked their way over him, binding him tightly.  He lifted his head, his eyes meeting briefly with his own, at least, his memory's.

            "Severus Snape."  Mr. Crouch was addressing the prisoner.  "You have been brought here before the Council of Magical Law to answer to charges of being a Death Eater.  Have you a plea?"

            Severus sat with his head hung.  "Guilty," he whispered.

            Crouch stood to pronounce sentence when Dumbledore saw himself stand to address the room.  

            "One moment please.  I do have some evidence in this man's trial."

            "Albus, he's already pleaded guilty."

            "I heard him, Bartholomew.  I have evidence, nonetheless."

            "Then you believe Snape is innocent?"

            "Innocent?  No.  Severus confided to me himself, some time before Voldemort's disappearance, that he was a Death Eater.  Of that crime, he is guilty.  However, at that time, he began helping me, supplying information that helped us to save many lives."

            "Have you any evidence of this?"

            "I have."

            Dumbledore carefully watched Snape while his double presented evidence and spoke for the young man.  He sat with his head low, not even seeming to listen to his own defense.  Finally, he lifted his eyes and stared up at the far left corner of the room.  Dumbledore followed his eyes and saw a young woman sitting alone, a black cloak pulled tightly around her.  She stared back, tears streaming down her cheeks.  Both sat silently, holding the gaze that connected them.  Dumbledore looked back at the young man.  His eyes were wide and apologetic.  He knew that look.  It was the same look he had worn when he first told Dumbledore what he was.  It was shame.  The young man's chin fell back to his chest.  The girl had stood and moved to the door in the back.  Dumbledore watched as she hesitated.  She turned back to Severus, her hood pulled back from her face.  It was Medea, exactly the girl he had been helping for the past week.  She disappeared.

            This is where I saw her, he thought.  She was here, at Severus's trial.  It was she who stood and left in the middle.  

            He was ready to leave this memory now, and felt himself tugged back into his office.    


	6. Chapter 5

            Dumbledore made his way up to the third floor followed by Lupin and Flitwick, who carried a large mirror.  They met Medea in the hallway where she had been pacing, waiting for him.  She took his arm and allowed him to lead her back to her chambers.

            "This is Remus Lupin, our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.  And this is Filius Flitwick, our Charms professor.  They will be helping to rescue Professor Snape.  I want them here, since they will be involved."

            She nodded.  Remus pulled a chair into the middle of the room, and she sat.  Filius was adjusting the mirror in front of her. 

"Are you sure you want to do this, Medea?"

            "I am," she said.  "I saw him again.  He is weak.  We should hurry."

Dumbledore took a vial from his robes.  The liquid was syrupy, and dark blue in color.  "This is Revium.  It will put you into a sort of sleep, a trance state, really.  It will be as if you are dreaming.  It is important that you relax during this.  And you must concentrate on Severus.  Otherwise, this is worthless.  This mirror will allow us to see what you are seeing in your trance.  Do you understand?"

            "I understand."  He placed two drops on her tongue, then watched as her eyelids drooped slowly, until she was asleep.

            The three men gathered behind the mirror and watched her reflection.  A fog rose and remained for several minutes.

            "Filius, is this going to work?" Remus whispered.

            "It just takes a few minutes." Flitwick assured him.  "She must be in a deep sleep in order to dream."

            Almost immediately after those words, the mirror cleared.  Medea was standing in a dark room, a dungeon or basement.  A black mass was at her feet.  She knelt and carefully touched it.  It moved slightly.  They could hear its raspy breath.  She stepped around it and knelt again.  All three men gasped as she touched his face.  It was Snape.  His face was badly bruised.  His cheekbone and forehead were scraped up; blood caked about his hair.  A crimson trickle from his ear had dried on his neck.  He opened his left eye at her touch.  His right was swollen shut.

            "Medea."  He reached up with a shaking hand and touched her cheek.  "You've come.  Am I dying?"  His voice was barely a whisper.

            "Dear god," Remus said softly,  "he's barely alive."

            "No, Severus," she answered.  "You're not dying.  You have friends coming to get you.  You need to stay strong."

            "I knew it was you.  All those times, I heard your voice in my head.  Telling me to stay strong.  When I saw you, I though for sure I was-"

            "No.  They're coming for you.  Do you know where you are?"

            "It's too late for me."

            "No, Severus.  I'll tell them.  They'll come get you.  Tell me where you are."  Medea froze.  The three men strained to hear the footsteps in the distance.  

            "They'll kill me now," Snape said, his eye closed.

            They heard the latch of the door raised and three men entered the cell.  Each wore a black cloak.  The shortest man spoke up.

            "Come on, Snape.  The games are beginning."  

            The other two men grabbed him under his arms and dragged him from the room.  His immaculate robes were no more that rags draped over his shoulders.

            "Follow him," Flitwick said aloud.  Whether or not she heard him, Medea followed up a dark staircase and through a large doorway into a room where a dozen people were gathered, each wearing the same black cloaks, their faces hidden.  Snape was dropped, unceremoniously, in the middle of the room.  A single cloak approached him.

            "My children," he said aloud, "I propose a game for you, who have been craving blood on your hands.  A hunt."  Several cheers went up, silenced by the cloak's upraised arms.  "The prize?  You may kill Severus Snape."  Snape barely raised his head at the announcement.  The cloak lowered his face near to Snape's.  "You wouldn't beg me for death, so you will die like an animal, hunted and slaughtered.  You have one minute."  The door just beyond opened without assistance.  Medea was beside him.  

            "Come, Severus.  This is your chance.  You must be strong.  If you stay here, they will kill you!"

            "I am dead."

            "Oh, come now, Severus," the cloak said, believing the words were for him.  "At least give us a sporting chance."

            "Get up, Severus.  You must be strong.  If they're going to kill you, don't make it this easy on them!  Get up!"

             He stood and stumbled toward the door.  Though none in the room could see her, Medea took him by the arm and led him into the open night.  She led him toward the forest, just a few feet from the manor door.  They were just within the trees when Medea saw the cloaks flood into the courtyard.  About half were running straight for them.  She led him deeper into the trees, pushing him into deep grass so she could look up at the house.

            "I know this place," Flitwick sighed. 

            Lupin spread a map on the table.  

            "It's here," Flitwick said, laying his finger on the map.  "Little Hangleton.  I have an aunt who lived there."

            "He's still at his father's house," Dumbleodre said.  "It's as Harry described."  His eyes were back on the mirror.  Medea had led Snape past the scattered graves of Tom Riddle and his family.  He was lying with his back against a tree.

            "I can do no spells, Severus.  You must do them."

"I have no wand."  He was leaning against a tree, gripping his left arm, which was bleeding profusely..

"An incantation."  She began saying the words, which Snape repeated.  Two Death Eaters flew across the ground and slammed hard into a tree.

Dumbledore, Flitwick, and Lupin disappeared, running down the hallway, then ducking into a passage Remus assured them would appear in the Shrieking Shack.  They could disapparate from there.

Snape slid weakly down the tree.  "I can go no further."

"Severus, don't give up."  Medea was holding him in her arms.  "You can't.  Not yet.  They're coming.  You just have to be strong.  Stay alive.  They'll find you."  Without even knowing what the words meant, she cried,  "Please Severus, I can't lose you.  Not again."

He pushed himself up, his balance wavering.  He managed a few steps before he was knocked to the ground by a red blast.  She heard him groan, saw his eyes roll back in his head.  He lay very still, unable to respond to any of her pleas.

Had Snape been able to open his eyes, he would have seen three figures emerge from the woods around him, each with a wand in his hand and a curse on the tip of his tongue.  While Lupin and Flitwick blasted anything that moved near them, Dumbledore knelt next to his Potions Master.  He was unconscious, but still alive.  

He lifted Snape to his feet with amazing strength for a man so old, and the four men disappeared from the forest.


	7. Chapter 6

            The three men carried Snape through the dark passages and up a staircase.  A door opened just ahead of them.  The hallways were deserted, the students long having been to bed.  It took them only a few minutes to arrive in the Hospital Wing where Minerva McGonagall and Madame Pomfrey were waiting.  Dumbledore levitated the professor onto a bed where he was stripped of the rags that had been his clothes.

            McGonagall gasped.

Snape looked worse in the light.  No part of his body had escaped injury during his captivity.  Deep scratches and large black burns covered his chest and stomach, arms and legs.  His right side had bruised to a blackish purple, which, Pomfrey solemnly announced, contained broken ribs.  McGonagall promptly began cleaning wounds, healing what she could, leaving more extensive damage to Pomfrey's able hands.  Flitwick and Dumbledore helped where they could, but the headmaster caught sight of Remus sinking low in a corner.  His face was white at the sight of Snape's injuries.

"Remus, go check on Medea.  Be sure she is well."

Lupin nodded and escaped from the room.  He made his way through the corridors and found a staircase which would take him to the third floor.  He found her door, and upon pushing it open, saw in the mirror that she too was in the Hospital Wing where Snape was being cared for.  She was speaking softly to him, assuring him of his safety.  Her body slumped sideways in the chair where they had left her, eyes closed, black hair flowing over the arm of the chair, nearly touching the floor.  The mirror began to fog up again as he lifted her from the chair and moved her to the bed where she could sleep more comfortably.  Her eyes opened slowly.

"Professor Lupin," she said in a small voice.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.  "I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's fine.  I wasn't sure how to wake myself."

"You saw Snape in the Hospital Wing?"

"I did.  I didn't want to leave him until I was sure he would be okay."

"Why?"

"Nobody deserves a punishment like that.  Even those who have done evil."

Remus was puzzled.  "Do you know what Snape was?"

"I don't remember exactly.  I only have a sense that it was terrible.  And that he felt great remorse afterwards."

Remus was going to respond to this.  He wanted to ask her what exactly she could remember about him, but her eyes were closed.  She had fallen back to sleep.

Snape remained in the Hospital Wing, unconscious, for just over a week.  Though Madame Pomfrey had assured him Snape would be fine, Dumbledore still worried over the effects this experience would have on his colleague and one-time student.  As it was, he was embittered by his own past.  How would he deal with this?

And what of this young woman, Medea?  Though Dumbledore was forever grateful for her help in finding Snape, there was still much about her he could not understand.  Where had she been all this time?  How did she not age at all?   By what magic was she able to connect with his mind when he was in pain?

As he sat thinking to himself in the shadows of the Hospital Room, a low moan brought his attention to the corner of the room where Snape's frail figure had been recuperating for some time now. It was hidden from his and the students' view by several large screens.  Dumbledore froze.  He had heard several low sounds from his Potions Master over the last week, all of them emanating from the pain he must have been reliving in this healing state of oblivion.  Some nights, the headmaster had been drawn, running to the bedside by high screams echoing through the school that had escaped the otherwise still figure.

"Damnation," he heard in the low whisper of Snape's hoarse voice.

Dumbledore pushed past the screens to see Snape attempting to raise himself from the thin mattress.  He laid his hands on the man's shoulders and pushed him back down.

"Stay in bed, Severus.  You're still very weak."

"What day is it?  How long was I-?"

"Nearly Halloween," was the answer.  "You have been here in this bed for a little over a week."

"Nearly Halloween," he said to himself.

"The school has been very anxious for you, Severus.  The staff and the students."

"I never thought I would see it again."

"You nearly didn't.  Remus, Filius, and I found you at the last possible moment."

"Albus, how _did _you find me?"  Snape asked, one eyebrow arching high above the other.

"Ah, an interesting question in itself.  And the answer begins not long after you left."  Dumbledore told him the story, beginning in Ollivander's shop, meeting the girl, and bringing her to the school.  He explained the information he had received from Arthur Weasley and the dreams, which turned out to be visions of Snape in captivity, and ended with the mirror and the Revium, and his own rescue.

Snape remained silent through the telling and a few moments after, deep in thought concerning the story he had been told.  Dumbledore waited patiently until he spoke.

"Medea, she is here at the school yet?"

"She is."

"I must see her."  He began to raise from the bed again, but was stopped by Dumbledore.

"Not yet.  Not yet.  When you are well and wholly yourself, I will take you to see her.  I can see you have many questions for her, and I'm afraid she will have many for you as well.  They will all have to wait until you are stronger.  Now, I will let you rest."

Dumbledore slipped behind the screens, leaving Snape to himself in thought.  He was curious though.  A look had passed over Snape's face as he told the story.  It was surprise at first, when he described the girl, but something else, much deeper when he said her name.  Shock?  Disbelief?  He greatly anticipated clearing up Medea's past and finally learning her story, but something told him a price would be paid.


	8. Chapter 7

            Snape was released a few days later, and returned to his classroom on Halloween Day, much to the students' disappointment.  Snape attended his own classes with Dumbledore co-teaching with him to get him back in the swing of things, as well as to alleviate his stress until he was mentally ready.  He was much paler than before, and his hands shook just slightly, though it disappeared almost entirely after a few days.  It didn't take long for Dumbledore to feel confident that Snape was ready to go it alone.

During the weeks after being released by Madame Pomfrey, Snape was more reticent than ever, hardly speaking to anyone, though when he did, Dumbledore noticed, he did not snap or act as surly as the staff was used to.  Instead, he politely answered questions as he was asked, but offered no insight into anything.  He was simply quiet and seemed to be lost in thought at all times.  While some members of the staff and nearly the entire student body thought it was an improvement, many who knew him well, at least by Snape standards, were worried.  They were not surprised, however, after all he had been through.  Of course, only the staff knew what had happened, but that did not stop the students from drawing their own conclusions for the change in personality after so long an absence.

            The most popular theory from the students was merely a death in the family.  Dumbledore smiled at this, proud to know that his students could be sympathetic to even Snape, possibly the most feared and loathed teacher in the school.  Had Snape noticed the pitying looks he was receiving from many of the girls as they passed him in the hallway, he would have scowled at them and snarled something unpleasant, but his former, dislikable self seemed to be forgotten.

            But not by everyone.  Runner-up theories included a forced leave of absence by Dumbledore and a threat of firing, the realization that even his own mother hated him, and the idea that someone had tried to drop a house on him.

It wasn't until the Holiday Break that Snape asked again about meeting with Medea, the girl who had saved his life.  Dumbledore felt he was ready, but couldn't decide whether he himself was excited or anxious about the meeting.  He arranged the meeting to take place the very day the students left. 

As Dumbledore walked with him to the third floor, he noticed that Snape was more focused than he had been since his return.  His gait was long and quick, sweeping through the corridors with the former flourish he had known.  His eyes were narrow, calculating, though what he was thinking, Dumbledore decided, he could never guess.

Dumbledore knocked, and upon entering, found Medea sitting near the fire and Remus leaning against the wall near her window.  He had been asked to attend, simply because Dumbledore had no idea what to expect.  He did not know what their past was, and felt it would be safer for all parties to have interference.  Besides, it would be helpful to have another set of ears in the room.

Snape stopped just inside the room, his eyes sweeping over Medea's now standing figure.  His eyes betrayed no emotion.  He stood tall, imposing.  Dumbledore saw a hint of his former self in his attitude.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked.

            "Yes, you are Severus Snape."  Her answer was matter-of-fact.

            "And how do you know that?"

            "Mr. Dumbledore told me."

            "_Professor_ Dumbledore," Snape corrected.

            "_Professor_ Dumbledore told me." She repeated.  Remus snickered from his place on the wall.  "He said you are the Potions Master here."  Dumbledore was surprised by the confidence she had built since her arrival.  Or perhaps, he reminded himself, she already knew how to handle Snape.  

            "That is correct.  Now, who are you?"

            "Medea Colberson."

            "No, you are not.  Tell me who you really are."

            "My name is Medea Colberson.  You called me that yourself."  She stopped.  "I- I graduated from Beauxbatons.  I have a flat in Paris.  And a cat, Deja.  White with orange spots."  Dumbledore watched as memories began to flood back into her mind.  "I work at Essence of the Magi, under Monsieur Phillistine.  We- we made Glamour Perfume.  It changed women's appearance, made them beautiful."

            Dumbledore stole a glance at Snape.  His face remained rigid, his eyes cold.

            "You could have learned this anywhere."

            Medea wasn't listening.  Her eyes were wide with her memories.

            "I used to go to my roof at night, especially when the moon was full and bright.  It was so beautiful; I would dance where no one could see me.  And, and I met you up there."  Her voice trailed off, her eyes searched his.

            "You are not Medea Colberson-"

            "I loved you, didn't I?"

            "Medea is dead.  I saw her myself."  Snape was walking slowly toward her, his eyes locked on hers.  "You may look like her.  And you may know about her life, but as you see, you cannot _be_ her."

            "I'm- dead?"

            "Don't you listen?"  He spat, grabbing her wrist.  "_She _is dead!  You are not her!"

            "Severus-"  Dumbledore started.  Remus was already across the room, but was waved off by Dumbledore before he could separate them.

            "No, Albus.  I do not know what game she is playing here, but I want no part in it.  I will not stand aside while this girl plays at a life that is not hers!"

            "Severus, let go of her."  His voice was much calmer than he felt.  Remus was pacing, waiting for the word to move in, his eyes on the hands griping Medea's slender wrists.  

Her eyes were wide as she struggled against his grip.  Suddenly, her eyes flashed to his face, twisted in anger.  She froze, as if in a trance, as more memories flooded to her mind.  Snape saw this too, and let go of her wrist.  She backed away from him slowly, her eyes never leaving his face.

            "We fought, just like this.  I had tried to hit you.  You had my wrists in your hands.  But you weren't yelling.  You knew I would be upset.  You were calm, like when you're trying to make me understand something.  You were trying to make me understand why you were leaving.  Why you could never come back.  But I didn't want to listen, so you tried to say that you hated me.  You couldn't do it.  You couldn't say it.  You left me.  I didn't want you to, but you did."

            "How do you know this?" Snape asked softly, taken in by what she was saying.

            "You kissed my forehead-"

            "We were alone-"

            "And left the ring I gave you-"

            "In your flat."

"And you disapparated."

             Snape rocked slightly, as if he had been hit.  Dumbledore wasn't sure if he would fly at her again or turn on his heels and leave, but he only stood, with his eyes closed.

            "It was the hardest thing I've ever done," he said softly.  "You- she stood by me through everything, and I left her to-" he stopped suddenly.  "Medea is dead.  You cannot be her."  He backed out of the room.


	9. Chapter 8

            "She's drawn you into a lie, Albus.  That child is not Medea Colberson."  Snape leaned against the mantle of the fireplace in his private chamber.  Dumbledore had sought him there, not long after he fled  from her room.

            "She looks strongly like the woman, Severus.  Even you must admit that."

"It's not her.  It can't be."

"Tell me about Medea, Severus.  Perhaps it will help."

Snape sighd heavily.  "I met Medea in 1981.  She looked exactly like the girl upstairs.  Flawless.  Entrancing.  Her eyes were the purest silver."  He stopped himself.  "We met on top of her building, as that girl said."  As Snape told the story, the memories began to flash before his eyes.

He had been sent to that very building to kill a wizard by the name of Pendrach, a young man who had taken too much interest in the Death Eaters, was writing an article about them for _Magical Mysteries_.   Snape was destroying all of his work, scrolls and scrolls of notes and information, when his girlfriend came to see him.  She was a muggle.  Snape never heard her key in the door.  She never saw the flash of light that took her life.  It was messy.  Her dead eyes seemed to follow him about the room as he worked.

His work finished, he escaped to the roof to breathe fresh air before leaving.  Already, his own death count had begun to weigh on him.  It was only a few weeks before he would seek out Dumbledore for redemption.

She was there, spinning in the moonlight to a tune only she could hear.  She was barefoot, her toes gripping the cement patio as she turned, fingers grazing over the leaves of a rooftop garden, her face toward the moon, taking in every ray of the yellow light.  He watched her, in spite of himself, half hidden by several tomato plants.  He was enthralled by her, drawn in by her ecstasy in the moonlight, alone.   She stopped suddenly, her silver nightgown still swirling about her ankles, then swinging back and forth until resting just above her feet.  He ducked down, but her eyes sought him out.

"Qui est?" she asked softly.

"Eh, moi."  He stood, revealing himself, rather embarrassedly, in his hiding place.  His brain searched for more words in this language he understood perfectly, but was put off by his mind swallowing every detail of the woman before him.

"Qui est vous?" she asked, stepping forward.  The gown silhouetted her body exquisitely, clinging to her stomach and breasts and the dampness of her dance.  She was watching him, and he realized that he had become lost in her for a moment.

"Je m'appelle Severus.  My name.. is…  Severus.  Et vous?"

"Medea.  You're British?"

"I am."

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm here on business."

"On my roof?"

It dawned on him that this was a dangerous situation.  Below him in the bowels of the building were two dead bodies, both of which would be connected to the Death Eaters.  And here was he, a stranger, on that very rooftop, on that very night.  She knew his name.  She could connect him.  He had to kill her too.

His wand was already clutched in his hand, yet he could not bring himself to raise it against her.  She stepped closer and glanced down to see it.

"A wand?  Are you threatened?  I think that if either of us should be holding their wand, it should be me.  Afterall, you were spying on me from behind those plants.   But as you see," she said, raising her hands, "I am unarmed.  Why don't you put that away before I think you are unfriendly."

He slipped it up his sleeve.  She was watching him make this quick maneuver, a smile on her lips.  As soon as he looked up again, the pops of apparation reached his ears.  Three men had joined them on the roof, their wands out.

"More visitors?" She said, looking around her.  "Fellor, what are you doing here?"

The man she addressed stepped forward, dressed in a dark blue robe, blonde hair cropped short.

"Medea, there was a murder in your building.  We came to investigate.  Meiser heard movement up here, so-"

"So you decided to come see," she finished.  "But as you see, Javier, it is only me and my friend, Severus."

"Severus?"

"Yes, a friend from Britain.  Surely you've met.  No?"  He shook his head.  "Well, now you have.  Now, who was murdered?"

"Medea, you know I can't tell you that."

"And you know very well that I will find out from my father anyway.  Who was it?"

"Morden Pendrach and some muggle."

"I see.  And do you suspect the killer is still here?  Should I leave?"  She stood tall, as if daring the man to tell her yes.

"No.  No, I'm sure he's long gone."

"Good.  I feel safer already.  I suppose you need to go find this person, rather than stand here with me talking."

"Yes, of course.  Oh, Medea, how long have you both been up here?"

She glanced up at Snape as if conferring silently.

"Well, when we came out, the sun was just beginning to set, wasn't it?"

Snape nodded, surprised at her actions.

"Yes," she agreed.  "You commented on the color.  It's been a few hours, at least."

"And you saw no one else?" Fellor asked.

"No.  No one else."

The man considered this for a moment, then motioned to the other two men.  As soon as they had disapparated, Snape turned to Medea.

"Why did you do that?  You don't even know me.   For all you know, I killed those people."

"That thought had crossed my mind.  However, if they took you away, I would have no chance to know you better."

"Why should they believe you?"

She smiled at him.  "My father is the British liaison to the French Ministry.  They would never question that he or his family would have anything to do with a murder.  Besides, Javier and I know each other from school.  He trusts me."  She was right next to him now, peering up into his dark eyes.  Snape had to restrain himself from reaching out and touching the pale skin of her shoulder.   "So, I suppose you have somewhere you need to run off to?" 

"Yes, I do."  He didn't want to go, but he had to report back to Voldemort.

"Will you be back?"

"No."

"That's too bad.  If you were, I would wait for you."

"Why?"

"Like I said, a chance to know you better."

Snape considered this a moment.  He knew he shouldn't, but he wanted to see her again.

"Tomorrow night then."

"Here?"

"Is that okay?"

"Yes.  Yes, that's great.  It was nice to meet you, Severus."

"And you, Medea."  He disapparated quickly, before he could talk himself into staying longer.         


	10. Chapter 9

            "It was wonderful, the time we spent together," Snape told his old friend.  "I went to see her every chance I could.  It was- cleansing- to be with someone so pure.  She required nothing of me but my friendship."  He paused in thought.  "Do you understand, Albus?  She was the only thing in my life that was not tainted with evil.  She never questioned why I had to leave abruptly when I was summoned.   She never demanded reasons when I would return to her tired or injured or distraught.  I was doing horrible things, and they weighed heavily on me, but when I was with her, I was whole again.

            "Then I learned that Voldemort had demanded, and received, the lives of her father and mother.  It had nothing to do with Medea.  Her father had discovered a spy, a Death Eater, in his staff.  But I had had enough.  That's when I came to you."

            "I remember," Dumbledore replied, nodding.  "You told me of your disillusionment.  You needed redemption.  You did it for this woman?"

            "No, I did it because of her."  He crossed the room and poured himself a drink.  "I was accepted by her with no strings attached.  I was not expected to be anything I was not.  I was not expected to do her bidding.  Her only expectation was that I would not hurt her in any way."

            "Tell me more about her." 

            "I returned to her as soon as I left you."

            Snape apparated in her flat from just outside the school grounds.  He was tired, had lived through the worst memories of his life in the few days he had spent with Dumbledore, but he needed to see her.  Needed to tell her.   Her living room was completely dark except for a few candles above her fireplace.  

            "Medea?" he called softly.

            "I'm here, Sev."  He turned to find her sitting in a dark corner across the room, cradling a wine glass in the palm of her hand.  He crossed the room to her.

            "Medea, I need to talk to you."

            "Dea?"  A man's voice emanated from a back room.  Blood pounded in Snape's ears.  "Is someone there with you?"  The man appeared a moment later.  He was a few inches shorter than Snape, dressed in a black robe, as both he and Medea were.  Black hair hung to his shoulders.  He had the same thin face and silver eyes.

            "Jaken, this is my friend, Severus.  Severus, my brother, Jaken."

            Jaken  bowed his head slightly in greeting, his eyes, Snape noticed, watching him carefully.

            "I see the resemblance," Snape commented.

            "You should," he replied coldly.  "We're twins."

            "Jaken, don't be rude," Medea said sadly.  She stood from her chair.  "Would you like a drink, Sev?  I have wine."

            "Thank you."

            "Dea, I hardly think you need another drink."

            She spun to face him.  "Jaken, our mother and father are dead.  I think if any time calls for alcohol, it is this one."

            "Dea-"

            She waved him off.  "I'm not leaving.  And I know you and Sev here will take care of me should I need it."  She disappeared into the kitchen.  Snape could hear the tink of glasses touching each other.

            "So how do you know my sister, _Sev_?"  A slight sneer was on the man's lips.

            "We met on the roof," came Medea's voice from the kitchen.  She reappeared with a glass of wine for Severus.  "He stopped to ask for directions."

            "On the roof?"

            "He was on a broomstick."

            "I see.  And what do you do when you're not riding a broomstick where all of Paris can see you?"

            "Jaken, this is the second time I'm had to tell you not to be rude to my guest.  Next time, I will ask you to leave."

            "No need.  I'm leaving now.  I will see you tomorrow, Sister."  He bent and kissed her lightly on the check.  "Severus, a pleasure."  Before Snape could reply, he had taken out his wand and disapparated from the room.  Medea frowned, then wandered off into the depths of her home, reappearing with her wand.  She lit the fireplace, then several more candles around the room.  The walls danced with the specters of the flames.  Then, she sat on the sofa and patted the cushion for him to join her.

            "You said you needed to talk?"

            Suddenly, Snape remembered why he had come and became uneasy.

            "Another time, perhaps.  You already have much to deal with."

            "No.  You have something important on your mind.  I saw it in your eyes when you came in.  What is it?"

            "I really don't know how to begin."

            "Is it bad?"

            He felt himself nodding before he could reply.  "It is."

            She stood then and disappeared into the kitchen, returning with the bottle of wine.

            "Tell me," she said, pouring herself more wine, and adding more to his own glass.  He was uncomfortable sitting next to her, knowing all he had to tell.  He stood and began pacing the room, his hands pressed together, fingertips to his lips.

            "Medea, you have never questioned me on why I was here that night we met.  No, wait.  Let me go further back."

            "Take your time."

            "My father died when I was very young.  I don't even remember him.  My mother grieved for him a long time, so long that my grandmother took care of both of us.  I lived for several years with those two women, one, old and frail, the other, young and-"  He paused, searching for the right word.  "Ill.  I was sickly, as a child.  Kept indoors to read books from my grandmother's library.  By the time I left for school, I'd never been away from either one of them for more than a few minutes."

            "Sev, why are you telling me this?"

            "Just let me finish."  He took his glass from the table and emptied it.  Medea watched him, then refilled the glass.  "I was placed in a House with some boys, boys who were very different from me.  They ran in crowds and did what they wanted.  They had been raised in powerful families to do great things.  That's what I wanted.    They protected me, and in return, I helped them with their homework.  Did it, actually."

            "Protected you from what?"

            "The boys in the other houses.  I was weak and sick.  Laughed at.  Thanks to my upbringing, I had no idea how to take care of myself.  My friends taught me how to stand up for myself, how to be powerful.  I had never had any power before.  It became an obsession for me."  He paused again, gathering his thoughts.  "When we graduated, one of them, Lucius, approached me about joining a group to which he and several others already belonged.  He thought I was perfect for it.  A sort of fraternity of powerful witches and wizards.  I considered it an honor."  He sat back down on the couch, his elbows on his knees, staring into the fire.  "I learned the most wonderful things.  At least, that's what I thought at the time.  I learned to control people, to make them do what I wanted.  I could make people fear me.  And when I was ready, I was initiated."

            "Sev?"  

He was unbuttoning the sleeve on his left arm.  Her eyes never left as he solemnly pulled his sleeve to his elbow, revealing the Dark Mark burned into the inside of his forearm.   She could only stare in silence, her lips trying to form words, but emitting no sound.  Finally, she leaned forward and drank her glass of wine, then refilled it, and drank a little more.  Snape could only watch her, willing her to say something, but thankful she did not.  "This is why you leave so suddenly?  To serve Him?"  He barely heard the question, didn't believe she had spoken until he found her eyes searching his.

            "It is."

            "Did it hurt?"

"It is the most painful experience of my life."  He began pushing his sleeve down again, but was restrained by her touch.  

            "Leave it."

            Snape obeyed.  "My body felt as if it were engulfed in flames, to my very bones. And for all that heat, I have felt cold inside since."  He took his glass into his hands, but drank none of it.  He simply stared down at the burgundy liquid swishing against the sides in his trembling hands.  "I have done the most terrible things.  Things no man should ever do to another human being.  I have tortured and killed loved one's in front of victims to make them talk.  I destroyed lives.  And I enjoyed it for a while.  I enjoyed the power I had over my victims.  And then, several months ago, I just-"  He stopped, unable to continue.  He swallowed hard, trying to make the lump in his throat go away, willing the tears not to fall.  "I can still see all of their faces.  Every single one, when I close my eyes."  He felt her arms wrapping around his shoulders, her fingers slipping through his long hair, comforting him.

            "That's why you were here that night.  You did kill that man."  She whispered those words.  They were not accusatory, but merely mirroring his own thoughts.

            "I had to.  I had to.  For all the power I wanted.  All the power I had, I am his servant.  I am nothing."

            For a long time, she held him while he cried.  They were the first tears he had shed since he was a child, and he could hold none of them back any longer.  They took control of him, demanding to be released.  When there were no more left, he remained in her arms and finished his story.

            "I learned about your parents on the night it happened.  There was nothing I could do to save them.  It was already done.  When I left His circle, I went to Hogwarts.  My old headmaster there has been fighting Voldemort for years.  I told him everything, every detail.  I thought he would turn me in, send me to Azkaban.  He thought I would be more useful if I were free."

            "You're a spy."

            "I am."

            "But if Voldemort finds out-"

            "He will destroy me.  But at least I am helping to bring him down as well."

            "It's dangerous."

            "It's the only way I cannot protect those I love."

            Her eyes locked onto his.  She had read into his words what he had intended to say.  Medea leaned forward, drying his cheeks where the tears had slid to his jaw, then gently brushed his lips with her fingertips.  Finally, she kissed him gently.  Snape brushed her hair from her face and pulled her close.  Now she was the one crying.  He tasted the salt of her tears on her lips.  They held hungrily together, as if they had been starving for each other's touch since their first meeting.

            Snape only broke off when the pain in his arm became unbearable.

            "I have to go."

            "No.  No, Severus.  Please stay."

            "He'll kill me if I don't go."  He held her face in his hands.  "I'll come back.  I promise." 


	11. Chapter 10

            Snape stood at his window looking out over the courtyard.  He had been talking to Dumbledore most of the evening, and now he stood in his chambers watching the shadows below.  The girl was out there, he knew.  Remus Lupin was with her.  He had seen them sitting close together on a bench, talking, dressed in heavy fur cloaks to protect them from the cold.  A pang of jealousy stabbed through him.

            It's not her, he reminded himself.  It's not Medea.  Yet, even as he told himself this, he could not help but wonder if that was true.  In his mind, he saw flashes of her.  Medea.  She was lying on the floor in her living room, still.  Her breathing had long stopped.

            There was so much blood.

            He had cradled her in his arms.  Held her cold hands.  Begged her to come back to him.

            _Medea, please, open your eyes.  _

            He had tried to wipe away the blood that had trickled from her mouth, but only smeared it down her chin.

            _Open your eyes.  Come back to me.  Please come back!_

He reached out, touching the glass that separated him from where they sat below.  What if?  What if it was really her?  What if someone had helped her?  What if she had come back to him?

            He closed his eyes.  It can't be.  She was gone.  She could never come back.

            "So no one ever suspected you of breaking the statue?" Remus asked, still smiling at her recollections from school.  But Medea had fallen silent.  She turned and looked up at the window behind them.  Remus followed her eyes and clearly saw Snape's silhouette from the dimly lit room.  It disappeared almost instantly.  The girl turned back to him.  In that short moment she had seen Snape, she had become sad.  Her eyes fell to the ground.

            "Perhaps we should go inside," she said.  "It's getting colder out here."  She stood, smoothing her cloak, and followed him back into the school.

            Snape sat before his fireplace, remembering his return to her.  She was lying on the couch where he had left her, curled up against the back cushions.  Another bottle of wine had been opened and was half gone.  He sat on the edge of the cushion and gently ran a finger down her cheek.  Her skin was warm and soft.  She stirred, and he stood as she turned on the cushion.  Slowly, her eyes opened.  A smile spread across her lips.

            "I was afraid you wouldn't come back."

            "I'll always come back."

            "Promise?"

            "I promise."

            He helped her from the couch and steadied her as she made her way back to her bedroom.  She stumbled into her private bathroom, squinting in the sudden light as she flipped the switch near the door, and emerged a few moments later in a nightgown.  Snape pulled back the covers of her bed, then pulled them to her chin as she settled her head on the pillow, her eyes already closed.  He kissed her gently on the forehead, then turned to leave.

            "Stay with me?"

            Her voice startled him.  He turned to look at her.

            "Please?  I just want to feel you here next to me, to know you're safe."  Her eyes were begging him.  He removed his robe, laying it across a chair, followed by his shirt and pants.  He slid under the blankets with her where she snuggled under his arm, her head on his shoulder.  Tenderly, he kissed her fingers and held her hand against his chest.  Her breathing had already steadied into sleep.  He wrapped his arms more tightly around her and closed his eyes.

            "According to Severus, Medea, the girl upstairs, is not the young woman he knew."  Dumbledore was staring down at his chess pieces, his fingers twisting his beard as he thought.  Finally, he moved his knight and looked up at Minerva McGonagall as it drove its sword through her bishop.  "The woman he knew is dead."

            "Is he sure?"  She peered through her glasses at her old friend.

            "He was adamant.  He said he saw her body himself."

            "Really?  Did he tell you what happened?"

            "No.  No, not yet.  It's going to be very difficult for him."

            "I'm curious why her death was not in that file Mr. Weasley gave you."

            "As am I, Minerva.  It's your move."

            She frowned at him and moved her queen against his knight.

            "Do we know anything more about the girl, then?"

            Dumbledore shook his head.  

            "As far as I can see, she is Medea Colberson."

            "Hmm.  A sticky situation indeed."  

            Snape lay in his bed, willing a dreamless sleep to come.  He turned onto his side, staring into the dying embers in his fireplace, trying to clear his mind.  Since his return, he had dreamed nightly, always of Voldemort or Medea.  He welcomed neither of them tonight.  He damned himself for not having a dreamless sleep draught in his chambers.  Even as he reminded himself to bring one from his office tomorrow, his eyes grew heavy, and he was asleep.

            He was climbing the stairs to the third floor, seemed to be floating up them.  The darkness before him stole away to the long corridor.  Her door was at the end, drawing him nearer.  His own footsteps echoed loudly in his ears.  He pushed the door open.  The room was lit by thousands of candles lining the walls.  Medea stood before him in her silver nightgown, the same she had worn when they first met.

            "It's about time, Sev.  I thought you'd never come."

            He was across the room in two steps, enveloped in her arms.

            "I've missed you, Medea.  I've missed you so much."

            "Shh.  I know you have.  I've been waiting for you.  I knew you'd come back."

            "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."

            She led him to the bed and held him tightly in her long arms.  He lay with his head on her stomach, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

            "You know Severus, it's all your fault."

            "I know.  I never should have left."

            "All your fault."

            "I'm sorry."

            "It's your fault I'm dead."

            Snape froze.  He forced himself to look up at her.  She lay under him, covered in blood.  Her eyes were closed in that eternal sleep.  He jumped back, crying out, then saw his own hands.  They were stained with her blood.  In the mirror, he saw the crimson fluid on his face.  His robes were drenched.  He screamed.

            Snape woke with a start.  His hands and face were wet and he hurriedly began wiping them on his blankets before he realized it was only sweat.  He was dreaming.  He laid in the dark of his room, willing his heart to stop beating so loudly.  A glance at his clock told him it was 5:30.  He pushed the blankets away.  He wanted no more sleep.  


	12. Chapter 11

            Dumbledore worried about his Potions Master.  Snape had hardly been seen about the school in several days.  Those who did see him said that he shifted about in the shadows as if avoiding being seen.  He had shifted from being merely quiet to shunning human contact.  He had knocked on his chamber door and been met only by his voice, sounding worn and tired, telling him through the thick door that he was merely tired and wished some privacy for a little while.

            "Severus, open the door.  I'm worried for you."

            The door opened and Dumbledore entered the room.  Snape was sitting near his fireplace, a glass of wine in his hands.  He looked up at the Headmaster.  His eyes were red and bloodshot.  

            "Good evening Severus."

            "Would you like a drink?"

            "No, thank you."  He sat in the chair next to him and stole a closer look.  His skin was ashen.  His clothes were uncharacteristically wrinkled, and from the smell, he hadn't changed them lately.   He raised the glass to his lips and drank heavily.  "Severus, are you okay?  I've never known you to drink like this."

            "She's alive, Albus.  I've been watching her.  It's Medea.  Every like quirk.  Every little habit.  It's her."

            "But you, yourself, said-"

            "I know what I said," he snapped.  "There's no other explanation.  I don't know how it happened, but that's her."  He refilled his glass, setting the empty bottle at his feet where Dumbledore noticed another bottle on its side.  "I need to talk to her.  I need to be sure.  I need to know what happened."

            "Not in this condition, Severus.  I won't allow it."

            "Tomorrow then."  He tossed his glass of wine into the flames of fire.  The glass shattered against the back of the fireplace.  The flames rose, fed by the alcohol.

            "What happened to you?"  Dumbledore asked.  "Tell me the rest of your story."

            Snape sunk low in his seat.  "She was wonderful," he said.  "I spent every moment I was not with you or Voldemort with her.  She was my Avalon, my haven.  I loved her more than anything.  After Voldemort disappeared, I thought we were safe. I was going to marry her.  I gave her a ring, my mother's.  She gave me a small silver one she had always worn.  I wore it around my neck on a chain.  She was everything to me."

            "What happened?"

            "I broke a promise."

            "What promise was that?"

            "That I would always come back to her.  That night, the night I proposed, I was arrested by the Ministry.  I spent six months in Azkaban.  Six months!  She never knew what happened to me."

            "You should have told me."

            Snape stared up at him.  "I couldn't have.  If anyone would have found out about her, they would have killed her because of me.  I didn't know if you would tell them I was a spy.  If anyone found out-"

            "I understand."

            Snape held his eyes. Then nodded.

            "She never knew where I was all that time.  Not until she saw in the papers that I would be tried.  She came to the trial.  Probably went through one of her father's old friends to get in.  But when I was released into your custody afterwards, I went to see her.  I know I wasn't supposed to.  You trusted me and I broke that, but I had to see her."  

            Dumbledore was grieved at the thought, but remained silent.  He wanted to hear the story.

            "She was at home when I found her."

            Snape apparated outside her door, uneasy about simply appearing inside after so long away.  The door opened slightly before slamming open.  Medea flew through the doorway into his arms.  He held her, but reminded himself grimly why he came as she led him inside.

            "I was so worried," she was saying.  "I thought the worst after a few days, and then when I didn't hear about your death, I thought you'd run away.  But Jaken showed me the paper about your trial.  Oh god, Sev, I'm sorry I left.  I couldn't bear to see you like that!" 

            "Settle down, Medea."

            "But you're free now.  Is it safe?"  

            "No, it's not."  He had to will himself to take his arms from around her. 

            "Shall I pack then?  We'll go away.  They'll never find you."

            Snape steeled himself for what he knew he had to do.

            "I can't, Medea.  I can't leave.  I was convicted of being a Death Eater and am in the custody of my Headmaster.  He saved my life.  I cannot leave him to the Ministry if I disappear."

            "But Severus."  He had to look away when she tried to search his eyes.  "What does this mean?" she asked softly.

            "It means that I will go to him.  And you will stay here.  It's the only way."

            "No, it is not the only way!  I'll go with you!  Explain it to him!  Tell him we're engaged!  He has to understand!"

            "That's not fair to you, and I do not know what is in store for me.  I don't know that you will be safe."

            "Safe?  Safe!  How dare you make this an issue of being safe!  I waited for you all those nights, every night fearing you were found out and murdered!  Every night!  What you were doing was not safe, but we found a way around it!  And now you're telling me, when He's probably dead, that it's not safe anymore!  How dare you!"  She tried to slap him as hard as she could, but he grabbed her wrist before she could reach him.

            "Medea," he said as calmly as he could.  "I was a spy against one of the most powerful and deadly wizards to ever live.  If the wrong people find out, they will kill me and you will be a widow.  Or worse, they could come after you to get to me.  I cannot have that.  You must keep your distance from me."

            She was crying.  He wanted to take her into his arms and say he was sorry.  Tell her they would go away together, but he knew he couldn't.  He released her and she fell to the ground.  

            "It would have been easier if you'd have never come back," she sobbed.  "I could have believed you didn't love me.  Or that you had lost your soul in that- that prison!   Why couldn't you just say that you hated me?"  Snape could only watch her as she lay crumpled, crying on the floor.  "Please say you hate me."

            He could only stand there, willing himself to say it, but unable to form the words.

            "I-"  The words would not come.  She stared up at him, her eyes glassy with tears.  He had to leave now or he never would.  He pulled her ring from under his robes and removed the chain from his neck, laying it on the table next to her.

            "I'm sorry."  He disapparated hearing a fresh wave of sobs.

            "I hated myself for leaving her behind like that.  I returned the next-"  He was interrupted by a knock at the door.  Minerva appeared.

            "Professor Dumbledore?  I'm sorry to interrupt, but I've been looking everywhere for you."

            "What is it?"

            "It's Arthur Weasley.  He says they've found her brother."     


	13. Chapter 12

            It had taken Dumbledore some time to persuade Snape to stay where he was before he hurried to his office with Minerva following close behind.  Arthur's glowing head was already waiting for him in the fireplace when Dumbledore opened his door a few seconds before he reached it.

            "Professor!  You look like you've been running!" said Arthur's grinning face.

            Dumbledore was all business.  "You've found her brother?"

            "Yes, rather he found us.  A Jaken Colberson contacted the French Ministry last night about his missing sister, and they passed him right along to me."

            "He just contacted the Ministry last night?" McGonagall asked, mirroring Dumbldore's own thoughts.  "She's been here for four months! Why would he wait so long if his sister was missing?"  

"Did he give you any information about her?  A hint as to what's happened?"  questioned Dumbledore.

            Arthur frowned.  "Not really.  From what I saw, this guy seems – I don't know- untrustworthy."

            "Why?"

            "I don't know.  Call it a gut feeling.  Something is not right with him.  He gave me Severus Snape's name, and mentioned Hogwarts, like he knew exactly where she was."

            "That, I believe, is because they were friends a long time ago.  Perhaps he thought she would seek him out.  What worries me is your distrust of him."

            "It was just a feeling-"

            "And those are many times more accurate than knowledge of a person.  Did Mr. Colberson give you any contact information?"

            "Yeah.  I told him I'd let him know if I heard anything."

            "So you didn't tell him where she is?"

            "No, sir.  I figured you might know more about her than I, and would be a better judge of what to do."

            "Thank you.  I would like to speak to him myself before I release her to him."

            Arthur Weasley passed the information to Dumbledore before wishing him good night and disappearing 

            "What will you do now, Albus?"

            "I will send him an owl and request a meeting."

            Snape found himself on the third floor, making his way toward Medea's door.  His feet seemed to carry him without intervention from his mind.  Then his hand raised itself to knock on her door.  It opened and two silver eyes peeked out through the darkness.

            "Severus," she gasped, stepping back from the door.

            Snape stepped through the open door and closed it behind him.  He peered through the room, lit only by a dying fire in the fireplace.  No one else was there.

            "Are you alone?" he asked.

            "Yes."  She motioned toward a chair before the fire, stirred the flames before throwing on another log, then sat beside him in the darkness.  They sat silently in the silence, each wondering what the other was thinking.  Snape stole a look at her, noting that she looked exactly as she had when he last saw her so many years ago.

            "What happened to you, Medea?"  His voice was calm and even, betraying none of the emotion behind his question.

            "When?"

            "Between the last time we saw each other and now."  He stared intently into the glowing fire.  "Surely you realize it has been some years, yet you are unchanged by time."

            "Surely you realize it has not been that long, yet you are a different person," she replied, as if they were commenting on the rain.

            "I'm not so different."

            "You've been overwhelmed."  Her eyes seemed to see through him as they stared fixedly into his own.  "The darkness in you has taken over.  You've become what you detested."  When he made no move to answer, she continued.  "You once told me that you were afraid of what you were becoming; an unfeeling fiend.  You wanted to become a man that others respected, not a monster they feared."

            "You think I've become a monster?"

            "I think you are much worse off than when we first met.  When is the last time you laughed, or even smiled?  Can you even remember?"

            Snape thought hard, but was too ashamed to say he couldn't.  "I've been through a rough time."  He stretched out, holding out his long legs and reaching up with his arms.  "You've seen that yourself."

            "No," she said, shaking her head.  "It happened long before that.  You wanted to die.  I've never known that in you.  You feel sorry for yourself, don't you?  But why?  You have a second chance at life.  You have the chance to right all those wrongs you did.  Have you taken the opportunity?"

            "Am I really that changed?"

            She leaned over the arm of her chair and stared deeply into his dark eyes.  He stared back, taken in by her attention once more.

            "You're in there somewhere," she said, finally.  "That same scared young man who only wanted someone to love him.  Not someone to protect him or fear him, but someone who really cared about him.  You have that here.  Professor Dumbledore and Minerva.  And even Remus.  Yes, I remember what you told me about him.  The joke his friends played on you, but he too worried for you, just as I did."

            Snape sat silently, staring smugly into the fire.  

            "I waited for you, you know.  I thought you would come back for me and bring me back here to live with you.  I nearly died when you left."

            These last words snapped his attention.  Snape closed his eyes, willing the tears not to come.  _You did die_, he wanted to say.  But she was sitting here next to him!  She was alive! 

            "Medea, what do you remember about that?" he asked, wondering if he should have waited for Dumbledore to accompany him.  

            "Nothing, really.  I was just waiting for you to come back.  I went up to the roof, in case you were waiting up there.  That's the last thing I remember, being on the roof and watching the sun rise, waiting for you."

            "You remember nothing else?"

            "Nothing but Mr. Ollivander's store.  And Mist- Professor Dumbledore."

            Snape sat quietly, considering what she had said, all the while aware that she as just a few feet from him.  Inches, really.  And she looked exactly the same.  Her long black hair swept over her shoulders and breasts, hidden by the thick black robe.  Her long fingers lay entwined in her lap.  Her skin was flawless, even in the dancing light of the fire.  Her eyes were lit like torches, reflecting the flames like tiny mirrors.  She was as beautiful as he had ever seen her.

            He suddenly became aware of his own appearance, so changed since their days together.  His skin was much paler, not just since his return from hell, but since he had come to Hogwarts.  While his own fingers were still long and thin, they were grainier, older.  He was, in fact, older; much more aged than his years on earth betrayed.

            "What are you thinking?"  Her words were more of a sigh.

            "That I should never have left you in Paris."

            "Well, I'm not in Paris anymore.  I'm here."  She smiled at him, her first smile he had seen in years, and his heart lightened.  

            They sat together much longer, sharing the silence between them.  Finally, Snape stood to go.

            "Will you return?" she asked.

            "Why?"

            "So I can get to know you again."

            "Of course.  As long as you wish me to return."

            Dumbledore was not happy to learn that Snape had gone to see Medea that night, against his own instructions to the otherwise, but he could see the effect this visit had on Snape, and allowed them to continue.  Now that it was too cold for Medea to walk outside in the evening for very long, Dumbledore allowed Snape to take her about the castle after the remaining students had gone to bed, and even after the holidays when classes were back in session.  All the while, Dumbledore wondered what was taking Jaken Colberson so long to reply to his owl.  Neither he, nor Snape nor Minerva had yet told her that her brother was looking for her.  And all were glad for it, for Snape seemed happy for the first time in many years.  Medea began joining him in his lab, assisting on several experiments, their gentle conversation rolling through the classroom and into the hallway where the passing headmaster smiled to himself.  They had quickly fallen back into the friendship they had formed in their youth, but would it evolve again into more?  While they appeared to have a great many years separating them, Dumbledore knew they were very near in age.  And they had been lovers in the past.  And they were both very happy.  So why, in the deepest pit of his stomach, did Dumbledore _fear_ they might fall in love again?  Even he could not explain it, nor could he ignore the feeling of foreboding it gave him.   He knew he could no longer close the eyes to the attachment when, crossing the grounds from Hagrid's cabin late one evening, he spotted the pair kiss under the pale light of the moon.


	14. Chapter 13

            It was spring before a reply came to Dumbledore concerning Jaken.  The owl came to him during a meal in the Great Hall.  He broke the wax seal and perused the contents.

Monsieur Dumbledore,

            I have received your message that you have information on my lost sister.  Unfortunately, I am detained in Marseille on business and cannot get away to meet you.  If it is convenient, you may visit me here at my home March 6.  Please confirm the convenience of this date.

Sincerely,

Jaken Colberson

15214 Rue de St. Denis 

            Dumbledore excused himself and hurried to his office to reply.  It struck him as odd that a brother could not pull himself away from his work long enough to hear any news about a missing sister.  However, his own curiosity in the matter prompted him to accept the arrangements.  He would take Filius with him, leaving Minerva, Severus, and Remus to look after the girl.

Monsieur Colberson,

            I shall meet you at your home, March 6 at six o'clock in the evening.  I shall be bringing an associate of mine as well.

Albus Dumbledore

Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

            "What was his reply?"

            Dumbledore looked up to find Snape standing before him.  He had followed him to his office, knowing who the letter was from.

            "He wishes to meet at his home next week."

            "You're going?"

            "I am."  He motioned to a chair and Snape sat.  "Tell me, Severus.  What do you know about this man?"

            "Not much.  I only met him a handful of times; never for long.  He's not a fan of mine."  The professor pulled his robes about himself and crossed his arms.  "He has never liked me, nor I him."

            "Did he know about your past?"

            "He's the one who told Medea about my trial.  He knew at least that I was tried as a Death Eater.  Beyond that, I do not know."  He stared at the Headmaster, who sat quietly, his eyes closed in thought.  "Why do you ask?"

            "Severus, you were quite adamant when you first met Medea that she was dead.  You said you saw her body yourself.  Yet, she is here, quite alive, and her brother is looking for her.  He, at least, knows she is still alive."  He stood and walked around his desk so he was standing directly before the man.  "We have yet to speak of what happened after you left her to come here.  Perhaps you should tell me why you thought she was dead."

            "After I left her home, I returned here to Hogwarts.  I was distraught at the idea of never seeing her again.  I had made up my mind that I would bring her here to live with me.  I did not want you to tell me I could not, so I went, again, without permission."

            "I'm seeing that my trust in you was misplaced."

            "The bond of my heart was stronger than the bond of my word."

            Snape apparated outside the familiar door of Medea's flat.  His hands were shaking.  Twice now in two days, he was disobeying the man to whom he owed his life.  But tonight, tonight, if she would allow it, he would return with his future bride.  He did not know how Dumbledore would react, but at this moment, he did not care.  He could not leave her behind.

            He reached out and knocked on her door, the loud echo of it startling even himself in its courage.  He waited.  No answer.  He could not even hear the sound of movement inside.  He knocked again, slightly louder.  Still, nothing.  Perhaps she went to her brother's?  The young man could not leave without telling her his feelings.  He did not know if he would be able to return again.  Quickly, he scrawled a message to her on a piece of parchment, asking her to come to Hogwarts with him, that he would be waiting for her there.  Bending to slip the letter under the door, he noticed the thinnest sliver of light.  Was she home?  

            His hand reached out to turn the knob.  It turned, unhindered by any lock.  Without hesitation, Snape pushed the door open and entered.  The living room was well lit, but silent.  His eyes slid over the room, noticing nothing unusual.  They turned to the darkened hallway.  He flipped the light switch to light his way to the bedroom and stopped.  The door had been forced open.  Destroyed, actually.  Heart pounding, he was in the dark room in two strides.  Only the light from the hallway lit the entrance of the room.  He flipped another switch.

            For the rest of his life, the sight which greeted him haunted his dreams.  Medea, his sweet Medea, lay on the floor of the room.  She lay on her back, her faced turned away from him.  Her clothes were torn, soaked in blood about her chest.  It was coagulating on the wood floors.  Without realizing it, he was on the floor, cradling her in his arms, holding her hands, trying to find some warmth.

            "Medea?  Medea, no, open your eyes.  Please, open your eyes."

            He tried to wipe the blood from her mouth, but only smeared it across her chin.       

             "Please, come back to me.  Please."

            Her face, her bands, she was so cold.  He buried his face in her hair.

            "I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry."  He could say nothing more.  His throat was closed in a sob.  His cheeks were wet.  Severus Snape sat on the floor of her bedroom, cradling the body of his fiancée, his love; the one person in his life who knew him, yet still trusted and loved him, unconditionally.  The tears of his sorrow mixed with the dark life-giving liquid which had flowed from her body.  He could do nothing to save her.

            He had no idea how long he had been there, but the "pop" of an apparation brought his senses back to him.  Someone was there.  Snape looked down at his beloved's body in his arms.   He could not be found here.  He was a convicted Death Eater.  No one would believe it was not he who had killed her.  

            Gently, he kissed her forehead and lowered her back to the floor.

            "Dea?"

            It was Jaken who had come into the apartment.  Snape slid his wand from his sleeve and disapparated moments before her brother entered the room.

            "I made my way back to my room without seeing anyone.  It was pure luck, for the first glance I caught of myself in a mirror revealed I was covered in her blood.  My robes, my hands-  It was everywhere.  Even after I had scrubbed my skin raw, I could still see it."

            Dumbledore's heart turned as the image of Snape finding her body filled his mind.  There were no words that could form the thoughts in his mind.  Silence filled the room, both men lost in their own thoughts.

            "He must have found a way to heal her," Snape said at last.  "Some spell that healed her body, but stopped her from aging."

            "There are no such spells, Severus.  No magic can give life where it has been lost."

            "Then how do you explain it?  How can she be here with us?"  Snape rose from his seat.  "She's here, Albus!  She's under this very roof, and she's alive!  He must have found a way!"

            Though Dumbledore knew it was impossible, he could not argue with the evidence.  More than ever, he wished to speak with Jaken Colberson.


	15. Chapter 14

            Dumbledore and Flitwick apparated outside the Marseille address given by Jaken Colberson.  Dumbledore glanced at his watch. It was nearly six o'clock.  He rapped on the door and waited.  A moment later, the door opened and Medea's twin brother was standing in the doorway.

            "Mr. Colberson?  I am Albus Dumbledore.  You asked me to meet with you today?"  The man made no reply.  "And this is Filius Flitwick, our Charms professor."

            Jaken smiled 

            "You did not bring Mr. Snape with you?"

            "No, he has remained at the school."

            The door opened wider, inviting the two professors inside.  They entered the front foyer and followed Jaken into the living room.  There was very little furniture in the house.  In fact, there was very little of anything.

            "Excuse the sparcity of my home.  I've only recently moved here and have not yet decorated."

            "No apologies necessary," Flitwick answered politely.  

            Jaken bade them to sit on the couch while he seated himself across from them on a chair.  He sat stiffly, his legs crossed, hands clasped together on his lap.  Dumbledore took the opportunity to examine him more closely.  His black hair was graying prematurely at his temples and deep wrinkles outlined the same silver eyes he shared with his sister.

            "Mr. Weasley at the British Ministry told me you had information on Medea's whereabouts.  Is this true?"

            "It is," Dumbledore answered.  "She is at the school as we speak."

            "I should have known that is where she went," he said quietly.  "Why did you not bring her with you?"

            "I wished to speak with you first.  Your sister is suffering from amnesia.  It was total at first, but she has regained many of her memories up to about 1982.  After that nothing."

            Jaken rose suddenly and paced the room, saying nothing.  He seemed to be deep in thought.  Dumbledore and Flitwick waited patiently while he digested this information.  Suddenly, he stared at his guests.  His eyes were cold for a moment, then softened.

            "Where are my manners?  I'm sure it was a long trip for both of you.  May I get you something to drink?  I do have a nice earl Gray."

            He swept out of the room, but the professors could still hear his voice.

            "How long has Medea been with you?" he asked, his voice echoing from the next room.

            "Since September," Dumbledore answered.  "I am curious to know what your sister has been doing for the last eighteen years."

            "Why is that?" Jaken countered, returning to the room with two cups of tea.  The professors accepted the cups.  Flitwick sipped his while Dumbledore held his cup between forefinger and thumb while he spoke.

            "It seems she has not aged during that time."

            "She is a potions expert. I'm sure it's one of those cosmetic creams she came up with."

            "Ah, yes.  I'm sure that explains it."  He lifted his cup to drink, then lowered it again, another question on his lips.  His eyes fell on Jaken's fingers drumming his knee, those silver pools staring expectantly back.  He was waiting for something.  "She and Severus seem to be quite happy to be together again.  I wonder why she did not try to reach him earlier?"

            As Dumbledore carefully watched, Jaken's expression hardened to disgust.

            "Together?"  He stood and began pacing again, the eyes of both professors watching him.  "How can she do this?" he muttered.  "After-  what he did?"  He removed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one.  He took a long drag and looked over at his guests as he exhaled.  "Mr. Dumbldore, you haven't had any of your tea.  Is it not to your liking?"

            "No, it's quite fine," he answered, but still did not drink.  His eyes stayed trained on the man before him.  He laid his right hand on his wrist to grab his wand from his sleeve if needed.  He distrusted this man.  "Is something the matter?"

            "In case you don't know, Medea was engaged to that man.  He walked out on her.  She was never the same after that."  He eyes were trained on Dumbledore's cup.

            "She seems to have forgiven him," he said stonily.  The cup.  He glanced over at Flitwick whose eyes had grown heavy.  He swayed.  Drugged!  His own cup dropped from his hands and crached to the floor as he whipped his wand out too late.  Jaken had already stunned him.  The old Headmaster slumped on the couch next to Flitwick.

            Jaken stepped over and removed the wands of both professors.  They had apparated.  He could use them to apparate at their starting point.  

            "My sister was never the same after he left.  She was dead.  But don't worry, old men.  You'll wake up with headaches.  Ol' Sev won't wake up at all."  He took another long drag of his cigarette and dropped the butt to the floor, extinguishing it with his heel.  After retrieving a silver package from a trunk under the window, he turned and headed for the front door, whipping a cloak about his shoulders, then left without a backward glance.

            Snape sat at the dinner table next to McGonagall.   Dumbledore and Flitwaick had still not returned from Marseille.  Minerva laid her hand over his tapping fingers.

            "I'm sure their meeting is just taking longer than expected, Severus."  

            "I don't trust her brother.  I told Albus not to go."

            "Albus is more than able to protect himself should he need it.  Calm yourself."

            Jaken apparated in a run-down shack.  The furniture was destroyed.  Deep gouges filled the walls.  It looked as if a werewolf had been loose in there.  He looked out the window.  There was a town outside.  The school was probably nearby.  He slipped out to the street, a friend of a professor, unsure how to visit his friend at the school.  His way was pointed out by friendly locals.

            After dinner, Snape escorted Medea outside for a walk.  The evening weather was pleasant, but his mind was elsewhere.  Why was Dumbledore taking so long?  Where were they?  

"Where is Professor Dumbledore, Severus?  He has not been to see me today."

"He was called away to meeting.  Urgently."

"Is everything all right?  You look troubled."

"I hope so."

Medea slid under his shoulder, wrapping her arm around his waist.

As they walked and softly spoke, the couple was unaware of two silver eyes peering out at them from the forest.

Snape absently played with Medea's black hair as they stood outside her chamber door.  Medea stared up into his dark eyes; her own eyes mirroring his worry.

"What is it, Severus?  Something weighs heavily on your mind.  I can see it."

"Nothing, my love."  He smiled.  "I am merely anxious to speak with Albus.  That's all."  

Medea brightened.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Do you realize this is the first time you've called me that since you've returned?"

"What?"

"'My love.'"

"I suppose it is."  He kissed her fingers.  "Does it bother you?"

"Not at all."  She kissed him, her lips lingering against his.  "I'm glad I found you again."

"As am I."  A frown crossed his face.  "I don't think I ever thanked you for that.  Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Snape kissed her forehead.

"I should go.  Albus should be back soon."

"Come inside. You can wait here."  Medea pushed the door open and held it for Snape to follow.  She watched him cross the room and hang his cloak.  She lavished in his fluid movements.  Every step was graceful and elegant.  He turned and saw her watching him.

"Close the door, Medea," he said softly.  

Medea did as he told her and crossed the room to him.  Snape pulled her cloak from her shoulders and hung it next to his own.  Then he turned back to her, lifted her chin with one long finger, and gazed deep into her eyes.  Slowly, he bent and kissed her lips.  Medea's own hands pulled him closer, entwining through his hair as his arms circled her waist tightly.

For a few moments, both forgot where they were.  There had been no separation.  No pain.  No suffering.  Both were whole again in each other's embrace, and Snape felt total happiness for the first time since she had been torn from his life.  It was only the sound of movement near the door that brought them back to the room.

Snape placed himself between Medea and the sound.

"Who's there?" he called and pulled his wand from his sleeve.

"Expellirumus!"

Snape's wand was whipped from his grasp and flew across the room where it was caught by a floating hand.

"Who is it?" Snape demanded, pushing Medea behind his back.  "Answer me!"

His wand was flicked and Snape was thrown against an opposite wall and held there by an invisible force.

Medea screamed.

The hand tore the invisibility cloak from unseen shoulders, wrenching a gasp from Medea's throat.

"Jaken!"   


	16. Chapter 15

            "Jaken, what are you doing here?"

            "I could ask the same of you, Medea."  He crossed the room to where she stood and walked slowly around her, examining her from head to foot.  "But then, I should know the answer to that.  You came to find your Death Eater, your love.  Frankly, I don't see what you ever saw in him."

            "Jaken," Snape demanded, "release me!"

            Jaken turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder at the Potions master pinned against the wall.

            "I don't believe I invited you into this conversation, _Sev_."  He flicked his wand, sending Snape crashing against the opposite wall.  Snape cried out, then moaned as his chin fell to his chest.

            "Tut tut, Medea.  You came back here all by yourself.  You couldn't even wait for me, but then, you never were one to do as you were told.  Father and Mum never punished you enough as a child."  He continued walking around her.  She stood, unmoved, swiveling her neck to watch him as he moved. 

            "What is the meaning of this, Jaken?  Release Severus, now!"

"Now, now, Sister.  I hardly think you could take him if I released him.  She couldn't before, could she _Sev_?"  He glanced back over at Snape, who had raised his head, blinking to clear his vision.

"What are you talking about?"  The words caught in Medea's throat, hardly making their way out.

Jaken reached under his jacket and removed dagger.

"Do you recognize this, _Sev_?" he asked, fingering the blade.  "Probably not.  I'm sure that night blends in with all your other murders.  Just another evening of entertainment for you, I suppose?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Snape sneered.  "I've never seen that weapon before in my life."

"A lie," Jaken returned calmly.  "I'm sure it's only one of many you've told.  How else could someone like you get a job in a school?"  He stepped to the wall where Snape was being held captive.  "Or perhaps you don't remember this one in particular." 

Medea watched carefully as her brother stepped closer to Snape and held the blade in front of his face.

"Look carefully, Snape.  This is why I'm here tonight.  This is why Medea is here as well.  Look at this blade.  It holds your future, and I foresee a very short one for you."  He flicked his wrist, cutting Snape's face along the cheekbone.  Snape only flinched, but held in any pain he felt.  He stared murderously at the man before him.  "Sev, you look angry," Jaken said casually.  "Do you wish to kill me too?"

"Leave him alone!"  Medea ran forward and placed herself between the two men.  She stared hard at her brother, then turned and gingerly reached to touch Snape's cheek.  Before her fingers reached him, Jaken's hand gripped her wrist, spinning her away from him.

"No touching, Medea."

"Jaken!" Snape cried, struggling against his invisible bonds.  "When I'm loose-"

"Quiet you!" he yelled, and whipped the blade again to Snape's face.

Medea cried out as a fresh line of blood began dripping down Snape's thin face.

"Why are you doing this?  He's done nothing to you!  Let him go!"

"You're wrong, Dear," Jaken answered stonily, his deadly stare trained on Snape's face.  "He's done everything to me.  He's taken everything from me, haven't you _Sev_?  My parents.  My sister."

"You don't know what you're talking about," Snape growled.

"Oh, I do.  You remember, don't you?"  He gripped Snape's left sleeve and pulled it roughly to his elbow, revealing his Dark Mark.  "You may have forgotten you have this, but I haven't.  This mark was left over my parent's home after they were murdered, wasn't it?  You killed them.  You and your kind."

"You're a fool if you believe that."

"And you killed my dear sister.  I remember.  You were there when I arrived.  Did you think I didn't see you disapparate from her room?"

"Jaken?  What are you talking about?"  Medea stared up at her brother, tears brimming her eyes.  "I'm right here.  Nobody killed me."

The man stared sadly down at the young woman on the ground.  He knelt beside her, gently petting her hair, as if attempting to comfort her.

"Hush sister.  Shh, I know this is confusing for you.  You have no memory of that night, do you?  I'd almost forgotten," he said, looking down into her scared tear stained face.  "But I do.  You trust me, do you not?  You've always trusted me, since we were children."  He pulled a small bottle from his pocket.  It seemed to be filled with silver whisps of smoke.  "But don't worry.  I have your memories right here."

Snape recognized the contents immediately.  They were memories, reminiscent of those stored in a pensieve.  He guessed it contained her memories of that night, her last night.  Everything she saw.  Everything she thought.  Everything she felt.

"Don't do this to her!" he cried.  "Do not put her through this!"

"I believe I told you to be quiet!"  He threw the dagger hard at Snape.  It embedded itself deep in his shoulder with a sickening _thunk_.  He heard Medea cry out again, but it seemed distant.  Snape was concentrating on ignoring the handle sticking out of him just to the left of his chin.  He was breathing deep, steadying himself against the pain, willing it not to roll through like hot revulsion.  He had to stay focused.

Jaken ripped the dagger unceremoniously from Snape's shoulder and returned to his sister.  A gush of warm blood flowed from the wound, no longer hindered by the blade. 

"You have to remember, Medea.  You have to remember, so you can understand."  He unstoppered the bottle and touched the tip of his wand to the top.  The smoke seemed to cling to it like a long silver web as he moved it toward his sister and gently tapped her head.  The web wound its way in through her eyes and ears.  Her eyes widened as the new memories took hold.

"Tell me what you remember, Medea," he coaxed gently. 

"I was in my flat.  I had just come down from the roof.  I was so sure you'd come back."  She looked up at Snape.  A new wave of tears fell from her eyes as she felt the loss again, so many years later, as if it had just taken place.  "I was waiting for you to come back.  There was a knock at the door.  It was you.  I- I thought it was you.  I threw the door open.  It was a man, cloaked so I could not see his face.  He pushed me inside and shut the door behind him."  She was shaking now, fear gripping her bones.  Fear of what that man might want from her.  "'Snape's whore.'  That's what he called me.  I tried to run.  My wand.  It was in my room.  I had to get to my wand."

"Medea, who was it?" her brother hissed.  "It was Severus under that cloak.  Just tell me it was."  He weighed the dagger in his hand, ready to sink it deep in Snape's chest at her word.

"Oh god, he's chasing me," she whimpered.  "He's following me to my room.  I can't move.  I- I couldn't move!  I was frozen.  He came right up to me.  His eyes, two black holes.  His hot breath is on my neck, my face.  He- he had a knife."  She screamed, her body twisting from the memory of the knife sinking deep into her flesh.  She cried out again and again,  twisting, wrapping her arms around herself, protection from the memory.

"Medea," Snape whispered.  Consciousness was wavering.  His chest was sticky with his blood.  He fought the urge to close his eyes, though they were getting heavier with each passing minute.  He concentrated on Medea writhing on the floor.

"Tell me, Medea.  Tell me it was _him_," Jaken spat.

Her eyes whipped open.  

"No!  No, it wasn't."

"You're mistaken.  You have to be!"

"No," she repeated, straightening, but still clutching her chest as if she'd been stabbed.  "He removed his hood and looked down at me.  He was blonde.  A thin face.  It wasn't Severus.  Jaken, it wasn't him!"

"It was," he said soberly.  He stood.  "He may not have stabbed you, but it was because of him.  It all was.  You were called his whore.  If it weren't for him-"

Medea scrambled to her feet.

"Jaken, listen to me.  It wasn't his fault.  He tried to protect me.  That's why he left."

"He left you to be murdered, Medea!  He allowed it to happen!"  He spun toward Snape, his face contorted in fury.  "You did all of this!  You got her killed!"

"No," Snape whispered, his head lolling to the side.  "I came back- too late."

"Too late!" he cried, hurling himself at Snape.

Again, Medea threw herself between the two men to protect Snape, catching the blade in her chest with such force she was thrown back against Snape.  

"Jaken?" she whimpered through trembling lips.

Her eyes widened as she stared up at her brother.  His eyes widened at what he had done.  He released the handle, sunk all the way to her chest, as if it had burned him.  She slid to the floor.

 "No.  No!  Medea!"

The door to the room exploded suddenly, sending splinters and chunks of wood flying against the walls.  Before the smoke had cleared, a white flash of light hurled Jaken against the wall.  Before he could scramble to his feet, Dumbledore stepped out from the cloud of dust, his face contorted in fury.  His eyes were cold.  Lupin stood behind him, his wand also drawn.  Dumbledore flicked the tip of his wand toward Jaken, lifting him from the ground. 

"Remus, go help Severus and Medea."  His voice was calm, controlled, and utterly terrifying.

Lupin hurried over to them.  He stooped over Medea and felt her neck for a pulse.  Finding none, he reached up toward Snape's neck, his hands shaking now for fear of what he would find, or not find.  Snape's eyes flickered at his touch.  A low moan emanated from his throat.

"By Merlin, you're alive!"

"Medea," he stammered through the drunkenness of blood loss.

"Let's just worry about you, right now."  Lupin ended the spell that held Snape against the wall and caught him as his limp body collapsed toward the floor.  Supporting Snape's weight, Lupin lowered the professor so he was sitting on the ground against the wall, then glanced over at Dumbledore.  He was binding Jaken Colberson with what appeared to be ropes that flowed from the tip of his wand.

Lupin opened Snape's shirt.

"You're in a bad way here, Severus," Lupin whispered as he examined the wound.  "Come, come.  Look at me.  No closing your eyes.  You must stay awake."  Lupin caught his hanging head until Snape's dark eyes focused on him.  The pained eyes made Lupin glad he had placed himself between him and Medea.  His line of vision was blocked.  He could not see her where he sat.

"Help Medea," he said, attempting to shove Lupin's hands away with his right arm.  "He stabbed her.  Help her."

"You'll bleed to death if you don't let me stop the bleeding."

"Help her!"  He fought against Lupin's hands as they tried to slow the blood leaking from his wound.  Lupin shoved Snape's right shoulder against the wall with his left hand and gripped his bleeding face with his right, steadying it so he was looking into his eyes.

"Severus, stop this.  It is too late for Medea.  She is already lost to us, but you are not.  For once, let someone help you."  Large tears had welled in Snape's eyes as Lupin spoke.  "Please, let me help you," he continued.  Snape tilted his head to see around the professor to see her legs and one bloody hand.  

"Medea."  He tried to crawl to her, but slid sideways on the wall.  Lupin tried to steady him, but his hands were pushed away.  Snape pulled himself toward her bloodied body until he was next to her.  He touched her face, the blood from his own hands mingling with hers as he touched her wound.

"Oh god, Medea."  His jaw was trembling.  It was harder to steady himself, but he continued trying to rouse her.  "Open your eyes, please.  Don't leave me again.  Please," he pleaded.  His voice was a whisper.  The room was spinning.  His head was heavy.  His ears ringing.  Darkness fell on him as he collapsed over her body.                                 


	17. Chapter 16

            Faint whispers reached Snape's ears.  After several moments, they formed into words and sentences, indistinguishable in all but form.  They were words he knew, but could not concentrate enough to understand them.  They were soothing, nonetheless, in their cadence and volume.  They moved nearer, then further away.  No.  Two Voices.

            "… shame…danger…"

            "Harry… tower… sleep…"

            "… recovering…"

            "… death… Ministry…"

            Death?  Am I dead?  No.  Not me.  Can't move.   Alive.  Who?

            "Albus… office… Colber…"

            Colber?  Colberson.  Medea.  In Albus' office.  No.  Impossible.  Why?  A knife.  My face.  He cut my face.  Jaken.  Jaken cut me.  

_You'll bleed to death if you don't let me stop the bleeding._

My shoulder.  The knife.  Pain.

            Murder?  I'm not dead.  Did I kill?

            No.  Never.  Never.

            Medea.  

            _She is already lost to us… Let someone help you…_

Remus.  Helping me.  

Lost?  Where is she?  She's with Albus.  No.  Why not?

Cold.  So cold. 

Vision blurry.  Am I drowning?  

She's there, behind Remus.  Let me see her.

My blood is all over.  On her clothes.

The knife.

Oh god.

"Lost."

Lupin spun around.  He caught Madame Pomfrey's eye.  Snape's voice.  Was he waking?

He stepped around the bed.  Snape's eyes were still closed, but his lips were moving.

"No."

It was a whisper, but Lupin heard it.  He leaned down toward the professor as Pomfrey laid a wet cloth on his forehead.

"Severus?"

Remus.  Helping me.  

Am I still in her room?  Am I bleeding to death?

Let me go.

"Severus, can you hear me?  Are you awake?"

"Professor Snape, squeeze my hand if you can hear me."  Pomfrey slipped her fingers into Snape's hand, waiting for the slightest movement.  Nothing.

She examined the cuts on his face.  They had been shallow and would leave barely noticeable scars once the redness subsided.  She pulled his gown down far enough to examine the two and a half inch scar on his left shoulder.  It was healed, but still very red.  Her fingers touched the area gently, but it was marked by a sharp intake of breath.

 I hurt.  

When will it be over?

"Poppy," Lupin called softly.  

Madame Pomfrey lifted her eyes to where Lupin was looking.  Snape's eyes were fluttering as if he was trying to open them.

Medea?

I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.

I couldn't save you.

I love you.

Don't leave me.  Not again.

Pomfrey wetted Snape's dry lips with a cloth.  He was trying to speak.  

But was he conscious?  

"Medea."

Lupin tipped Snape's head so he could see him more fully.

"Severus, open your eyes.  Will yourself.  Open your eyes," he prodded gently.

Snape's eyes fluttered again, as if he was trying to look into the sun.  Madame Pomfrey extinguished the lights around him so his bed was cast in shadow.  His eyes opened slowly, then closed again, then opened weakly.  Lupin peered down at him, worry creasing his forehead.

"Professor Snape?"  Madame Pomfrey leaned over him.  "Can you hear me?"

Snape's eyes slid down to Pomfrey, then closed.

"Professor?"

"I hear you, Poppy," he replied, his voice dry and raspy.  His eyes opened again.  "I'm here."

"Oh, thank Merlin," Pomfrey exclaimed.  "We were nervous for you.  Remus, inform Professor Dumbleore-"

"No," Snape said sternly.  "Remus, what happened-"

"Severus, this isn't the time."

"Tell me.  Medea.  She's- gone?"

Lupin laid his hand over Snape's.

"I'm sorry, Severus.  We could not save her.  Her wound was fatal."

"I know," he said softly, his eyes closed.  "I knew.  I had to hear you say it."  He lay silently for a moment.  "Where's her brother?"

Lupin and Pomfrey exchanged a look, unsure whether they should tell him.

"Is he in Albus' office?"

"He is."

"Help me there."

"Professor Snape," Pomfrey broke in, "I cannot allow you to move from your bed.  You are much too weak to walk to his office, let alone to sit through an interrogation."

"Help me, Remus," he repeated, ignoring Pomfrey.  "I have to be there."

Lupin glanced toward Madame Pomfrey, then down at Snape.  His mind told him no, but if he were in the same position?  Lupin reached down to help Snape up.  He pulled him into a sitting position and allowed the vertigo to pass.  Pomfrey threw her hands into the air.

"Don't mind me," she exclaimed.  "I'm just the doctor.  It's not like I'm expected to know what I'm talking about."  She turned on her heel and stalked away.  The professors could still hear her ranting from behind the screen.  "Between the staff and the students, everyone is a doctor.  Everyone knows better than batty old Pomfrey!"

"We'll take it slow, Severus.  You'll let me know if you need to rest."

When Snape consented, Lupin removed his own robe and helped him into it so he would not be in the halls wearing a hospital gown.  Then he helped him from the bed and steadied him while Snape gained equilibrium.  Together, Snape leaning heavily on Lupin's shoulder, the two made their way toward Dumbldore's office.

At the gargoyle that guards the entrance, Lupin announced, "truffles," and the gargoyle swung open, revealing the moving staircase.  They were carried upstairs.  From outside the office door, they could hear voices, questions demanded that went unanswered.    Lupin knocked, then pushed the door open and entered, Snape still supporting himself on his shoulder.

McGonagall and a dark haired Ministry Agent turned in surprise.  Dumbledore stood from behind his desk.

"Remus, what is the meaning of this?  Severus should not be out of bed."

"It was at my request, Albus," Snape replied weakly.  "I want to be here."  Lupin lowered him slowly into an overstuffed chair in the corner as McGonagall watched sadly, but Snape's eyes were trained coldly on Jaken Colberson who sat in bonds across the room.

"I will not speak while that monster is in this room," Jaken sneered.

"You haven't spoken yet, so I see no difference," Dumbldore answered.  "Remus," he said, turning to Professor Lupin, "we will speak on this later.  This is Seamus Figg, Arabella's son.  He has been assisting me in questioning Mr. Colberson."

Figg nodded toward Snape and Lupin, then turned to Dumbledore.

"We're not getting anywhere here, Professor Dumbledore.  With your permission, I will give Mr. Colberson a dose of Veritaserum."

Dumbledore nodded and a vile of clear liquid was revealed from under Figg's robes.  He administered a few drops to an unassisting Jaken.  His face went slack, his eyes unfocused.

"I believe we're ready," Figg said, stepping back.   


	18. Chapter 17

            "Jaken, can you hear me?" Dumbledore asked.

            "Yes," came the answer, flat and emotionless.

            "Tell me why you killed your sister."

            "She was protecting him.  She got in the way."

            "In the way of what?  Of Severus Snape?"

            "Yes.  I came here to kill him.  Medea tried to stop me."

            Dumbledore glanced over at Snape who showed no emotion as he sat in the chair.  His head hung slightly to one side from weakness, staring at a point near the door, but he was listening.

            "Why did you try to kill Severus?"

            "Severus killed Medea."

            "Tell me what happened."

            "Meda loved him.  She was engaged to him.  He was arrested for being a Death eater, but she would not listen to me.  She knew what he was and did not care.  She said I did not understand.  After he was released, he broke off the engagement.  She was upset and asked me to come over.  I went to her flat after work.  She did not answer when I called.  I went into her bedroom and saw Severus disapparate.  Medea had been stabbed many times.  Her blood was all over the room."

            McGonagall gasped.

            "If Medea was dead, how did she come here?" Dumbledore asked patiently, leaning forward.

            "My sister was not dead yet."

            Snape's head jerked at this news.  His eyes glistened with fresh tears.

            "I could not save her, so I removed her memories," Jaken continued.  "I placed them in an old penseive she used as a basin.  I was able to retrieve many of her memories before she died.  I found the dagger which had killed her near the bed and took it.  Then I buried her body next to our parents.  I did not want anyone to know she had died."

            "Why?"

            Snape buried his face in his hands.  McGonagall stepped over to him and gently lay her arm across his shoulders.

            "I searched for years for a way to exact my revenge.  I wanted him to feel what she felt.  I wanted him to feel the same betrayal."

            "So what did you do?"

            "I wanted her to kill him, so I created a Golem from mud and placed her memories inside.  I had removed enough that the Golem formed itself in her image.  It was her in form, but I had to be careful giving it her memories.  I couldn't give it her memories of death or it would go insane.  It was having nightmares from what it had.  I often found it curled up in corners, trying to hide.

            "Finally, I gave it her memories from the days leading up to her death.  I just needed to add a few more hours, but something went wrong."

            "What went wrong?" Dumbledore asked.

            "It went insane.  I paid a gypsy witch to help me.  I had made a mistake."

            "What mistake?" 

            "When I took her memories, I trapped her soul.  She could not move on.  She was trapped inside the Golem.  She was trying to find Severus, but couldn't because of the body.  It kept screaming nonsense."

            "What nonsense?"

            "'He is in danger.  Betrayal.  Betrayal.'  She escaped from my home months ago.  I searched for her in secret.  I did not want to draw attention to her existence.  Finally, I contacted an old friend of hers from the French Ministry of Magic.  A man from your Ministry contacted me a few days later.  He put me in touch with Albus Dumbledore.  I knew he knew where she was.  I wrote to him, told him to visit me at my home.

            "He came to my home with another man.  When they told me where she was, I drugged their tea, but only one drank it.  I stunned the other."

            Snape's eyes connected with Dumbledore's momentarily before it was broken off by the headmaster. 

            "What happened when you got to the school?"

"I was hiding near a cottage.  The door opened and a large man appeared.  He greeted someone, although no one was there.  I knew it was someone in an Invisibility cloak.  I stunned them both and took the cloak from the boy who wore it. I saw them, Medea and Severus walking outside.  I was angry that she would go to him after what he did.  But she did not know.  She did not yet have those memories.  I would give her those memories and so she would kill him herself.  Wearing the cloak, I followed my sister into the school unnoticed and to her room.  When they entered, I followed.  I unarmed the Death Eater, but Medea fought me. I gave my sister her memories."

Jaken continued, showing no emotion.

"I watched her as she relived it all.  She felt every stab and cried out in pain."

Snape was shaking, his eyes closed, reliving the night as Jaken told it.  He too saw her writhing on the floor as invisible knives stabbed her again and again.  McGonagall took his hand and patted it gently.  She leaned down and whispered to him, but he shook his head.  He did not want to leave.

"What did she remember?" Dumbledore asked quietly.

"It was not him.  Severus had not killed her.  It was a blond man.  I did not want to listen.  It was still his fault.  If she had never met him, none of this would have happened.  I tried to kill him, but Medea stepped between us.  I killed her instead."

The room was silent except for the sniffle that escaped McGonagall.  No one moved.  What else was there to say?  Eyes fell sadly on Snape who sat with his elbows on his knees, holding his head.  His hair hung forward, covering his face, but the shudders that gripped his body revealed the depth of his wound.

"I think we've heard enough," Dumbledore said quietly.  "Seamus, get this man out of my school."  Dumbledore's eyes landed in disgust on the Jaken.

"Jaken Colberson," Seamus Figg said, pulling the man up from the chair.  "I'm placing you under arrest for the murder of Medea Colberson and the attempted murder of Severus Snape.  And I'm sure we could charge you with much more than that.  Come on."  He pulled him out the door.

Dumbledore asked McGonagall and Lupin to wait outside, but both lingered for just a moment, casting sad glances at the Potions master, who sat unmoving in his chair, before leaving.  The headmaster waved his hand and a chair walked silently across the room and stopped in front of Snape.  Dumbledore sat in it, leaning down toward Snape's bent figure.

"I'm sorry, Severus, about all of this.  I know none of us can possibly know how you feel."

Snape looked up.

"No.  You can't possibly."  He ran his fingers through his hair.  "I lost her twice, Albus.  Both times, she died because of me."

"That's not true."

"Yes, it is," he answered sternly, his dark eyes locking with Dumbledore's.  "Both times.  And how many others were in danger?  You and Filius both could have been killed.  And Hagrid and Potter.  He was the one under the cloak, wasn't he?"

Dumbledore nodded.

"After all we've done to protect him from Voldemort, and he could have been killed by Jaken because he was looking for me."

"Severus-"

"What happens next time someone comes looking for me?  You know the things I've done.  You know there are plenty of witches and wizards out there, more powerful than Jaken, who wouldn't mind coming to Hogwarts to get a shot at me.  My being here is a danger to these students."

"I have always understood the risks.  If I honestly felt you placed any of the students or staff in danger, I would not have brought you here.  You know that."

Snape sat quietly, staring across the room.

"I'm leaving, Albus," he said quietly.  "I am no longer of use to you.  Voldemort knows I'm a spy.  He knows where to find me, as does anyone else who wants revenge.  I am resigning from the school."

"I will not accept it.  You will not run away.  Certainly not now.  If for no other reason, you still owe me your life, and I will not yet relinquish it.  I need you here to help _protect_ the school."  Dumbledore stood and walked toward the door.  "However, I understand that you do need some time.  At the end of the term, take a vacation.  Travel.  Come back in September.  Your job will be waiting for you."

"And if I don't come back?" 

Dumbledore looked up.

"If you do not come back, I will not come after you.  But understand, you will be a fugitive, and I will not be able to protect you."  He opened the door, allowing Lupin and McGonagall back into the room.  "Remus, please help Severus back to the Hospital Wing.  He needs to rest."

Lupin helped Snape from the chair.

"And Severus," Dumbledore said as Lupin wrapped an arm around Snape's waist to support his weight, "don't forget that you have many friends here, whether or not you wish to acknowledge them."

When the door had closed behind them, Dumbledore sat back in his chair and lowered his head into his hand.

"What is it, Albus?" McGonagall asked.

"I fear we may have just lost out Potions master."

FIN        


End file.
